Oathbreaker
by Sobriquet Nightmare
Summary: A warsfeil that refuses to accept who he was born as puts himself at the mercy of the Barsburg Church to pay for crimes he never chose to commit. This arouses the curiosity of Teito, who soon comes to realise that there is more than meets the eye. AU/OMC
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own 07-Ghost. Additionally this work takes into context certain liberties. For one, I'll be largely basing this off the manga and am assuming an ambiguous interim period in which Hakuren is already serving with the royal family. I'll be referencing some other events that have happened, but while waiting for the manga to be released I won't assume much. Please enjoy! I aim to make this a pseudo-NaNoWriMo thing. Read and **Review** please!

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><p>Prologue<p>

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><p>The sky.<p>

People wouldn't know it but Teito loved watching the sky. When he was in the Imperial Army he would think it silly, reading the shapes of the clouds and pointing out to each other. Then Mikage had taken him fishing and all they did was stare at clouds. After that, it became one of his most cherished memories of his friend, how they would both sit there for hours on end, talking about nothing but how something appeared to be when it wasn't. He eventually came to realise that the sky would talk: just like how the weather would predict days of hardship, the clouds would sometimes call out to him. It was silly, but again the occurrences were too frequent to be ignored.

Today, the clouds were upset. He would probably say it like how Labrador would remark how the flowers felt. But they probably sensed a disturbance in the air.

_I can't imagine if I told Hakuren about this: he'd probably laugh at me._The fyulong dragon that was Mikage bounded up to him. He had grown as of late, becoming more slender and less chubby, like a miniature version of his mother dragon. Mikage had started to speak to Teito, even though it was just simple words. Kururu was one who had motivated him to speak.

_Teito._ That word spoke through him, and the voice sounded exactly like Mikage. Teito turned to the dragon as it nuzzled him. _You… okay?_

"Yeah, Mikage," Teito could hear the doorman calling for the closing of gates. "Just that the clouds said something would happen, but the day is almost ending. I wonder whether the church will have a disturbance in the night."

_I see. _Teito got up from where he was seated. Dinner would be starting soon, and if he wasn't in the dining hall soon enough Frau would come around "looking for that little brat", an indication of how much he cared. Thankfully Mikage could feed on eyefish too, but lately he wouldn't didn't know how to keep up the pace of feeding Mikage. He would have to ask Castor if the library held any books about the diet of fyulong dragons.

Sister Rosalie was there to greet him. Today's dinner was simple: bread and soup, but there was plenty. He had long since learnt to not question the source of the food, and just be thankful for it as he said grace. He still felt odd that he sat amongst bishops instead of with the priests, but what was he to do? They swore to take care of him and train him, and until he was strong enough he would never be able to recover the Eye. He constantly kept in contact with Mikhail, and the surges of energy had allowed him to mature. Frau had even commented that he had grown. Of course he had grown, he was eighteen now. If he hadn't grown something would have been very wrong with him, though probably no one would ever reach Frau's height.

"Hey, brat." Teito tensed as he lifted the spoon to his lips, then decided to wait for Frau and the others to be seated before tucking in. He was strangely hungry. Rosalie had taken the liberty of preparing Mikage's meals and fetching them from the kitchen. The fyulong dragon was exempted from social graces, consuming whatever was laid before him. Sister Libelle and Athena took their places as well. "How was your day?" It was weird having such a concerned question coming from Frau, but he thought of nothing.

"Nothing interesting, other than the fact that Mikage seems to be growing larger by the day," the table turned to look at the dragon as it looked up, having heard its name.

"Ah, it's a pity that eating plants doesn't satisfy him enough," Labrador sighed. "Then we'd have not much of a problem with his growth."

A sudden bang of the door opening sent the dining hall into shocked gasps as a gatekeeper rushed into the dining hall, heading to the first bishop he saw which happened to be Frau.

"Bishop! There's a person who claims he is a warsfeil at the gate. He says he seeks asylum in the church, but we have no idea whether to let him enter!" The panting make the words pause in between breaths, but Frau stopped munching on his flowers when he heard "warsfeil". A warsfeil, seeking sanctuary in the church? Usually, warsfeil were seeking _entry _into the church by any means.

"Has he attacked the guardsmen?" Castor asked, standing in concern. Labrador and Frau stood together.

"No, he just said he will wait until the bishops accept. He claims he has no harmful intent, Bishop Castor." He guardsman bowed slightly, shaking.

Teito chose to follow the three bishops as they headed out to the gate. It opened a crack and immediately Teito could sense the darkness that surrounded the area. A figure was standing some distance away, dressed in nothing but rags. Surely that atmosphere of dread and soullessness was enough to verify that the young man was a warsfeil? Even as the cold wind brushed past his cheek he could smell the scent of it: sterility, metal and too clean for a human. When those eyes scanned the four figures that was Frau, Castor, Labrador and himself, he caught the glint of red in his eyes.

"Do you realise the punishment the church invokes on people who are warsfeil?" Castor was always the one who took initiative to speak. Teito knew. They would be held in the light dungeon for execution. Even Frau hadn't escaped imprisonment when he was suspected of being one. How would a real warsfeil react? The boy merely smiled.

"I came here to learn under the church, so that I may learn to heal instead of kill, to help instead of hurt, to rid myself of the forced destiny that was imposed on me when I had no consciousness." The boy spoke well for a person dressed in rags. Perhaps he had truly made the journey alone, without help, but came from an educated background. That could be the only explanation. Surely the imperial army would never let go of a warsfeil, either submitting them to experiments or enrolling them into the black hawks. Defectors would have been too large a risk, and Ayanami would surely crush them in the palm of his hand before they could beg for leniency.

"Can you prove that you are truly warsfeil?" Frau sounded doubtful, despite having seen the telltale signs. The boy sighed again, as if he regretted everything that he had to say.

"Surely you don't want me to turn any of your people into wars. Then I suppose this would be sufficient." He raised his hands as the four of them stood defensively. A small breath of zaiphon was summoned, bleeding with the colour of blood. Red zaiphon – the sign of the corrupt soul destined to never meet the Chief of Heaven in their lifetime. Teito instinctively called out zaiphon of his own in a shield, his baculus glowing, but the boy quickly dissipated his own energy. Frau moved forward and touched the boy with his baculus. The blackness swooped through the staff, unlike when Teito had struck Bastien. Back then it had slowly taken over the baculus before it turned black, but this time it just overwhelmed the weapon. Frau unleashed his scythe.

"You cannot cut the links I was born to have with Verloren, Zehel. Not without my life being ripped apart as well." The boy kneeled on the ground, as if ready for his execution. "But if the church chooses not to take the risk, then I can understand. I will submit myself to the messengers of the Chief of Heaven, just so that I may be reborn without this sin I did not choose to have."

Teito watched and waited to see what would happen. Never in his lifetime would he expect a warsfeil to want to submit himself to becoming a bishop, or to serve the chief of heaven for any matter. Warsfeil were detestable things, but this man made Teito realise that they were not merely shells being manipulated: they were truly human beings that had a choice. It made him wonder if Ayanami and the Black Hawks had made a conscious decision to pursue the path of false truths, a path that revelled in the fall of God's treasured beings. How did this one know Frau's true identity? If it meant that he could see the scythe, then was he special too?

"May God have mercy on you," Labrador spoke as Frau raised his scythe.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Sorry if my writing seems to be pointless rambling: haven't gotten back my writing mojo, and am in the process of rediscovering it. Read and **review** please! they are so appreciated (every time I get one I kneel on the floor and cry.)

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

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><p>Four in the morning. The bells were chiming for morning prayers, calling out to the sleepy sisters and brothers of the church to wake in the only way that they knew how to. Teito had half an hour to get to the main hall, but first he had to head to Frau's room and wake that lazy bastard out of his coffin. Why he even had a bed was a mystery left to Frau's knowing, but Teito wondered if there were times where Frau would get intimate, whether with himself or with any girls, not that women were allowed into his quarters. Perhaps behind that perverted façade only lay a kind heart that had no perverted intentions. It was true when Teito considered it: Frau was flirtatious but never overbearing. He knew when to withdraw and Teito had never witnessed him force himself on anyone.<p>

Walking down the hall, he took stock of the day's proceedings. Today would be sparring and training in clean exorcism with Castor, but not before breakfast and morning chores. He wondered how the man could find time from his duties to personally teach himself. In the past examination after his own, the number of candidates who had managed to pass became a sad none thanks to Lance's insane adjustments to the Bishop examination, but he was glad that Frau didn't have to split himself two ways. It was odd, how wanting to find out his past would eventually lead him to wanting to do what the members of the church strove for: helping all who are in need.

He felt someone brush against him, and with that he felt a shiver run down his spine. He looked up: it was that warsfeil. So they released him from the light prison for morning prayers? He had heard only rumours, but it was said the warsfeil adhered to a strict curfew. He was only allowed out between four in the morning and six in the afternoon, and at all times a bishop was to be present to supervise him. It created the problem where the warsfeil would have to follow the bishop occasionally because of a lack of manpower. He had also only heard rumours of a name, but it seemed safe enough.

"Ah, sorry, Teito-san." And he was polite too, if not too mild-mannered for Teito's suspicions not to be aroused. He nodded.

"Saar, is that right?" The boy seemed almost surprised, but then nodded. Teito breathed out a sigh of relief. "Well, sorry for bumping into you. I have to rush off to check on Frau, talk to you sometime?" What kind of a name was Saar anyway? Teito stalked off the corridor, not forgetting how those eyes continued to glint red. What that boy had told Frau in their first encounter was true: there was no way of removing his warsfeil abilities without killing him. But it proved to be to his benefit in the training hall: Teito had supervised a class once and he had watched the man, surrounded by Kor, stay as if he heard none of their temptations, slaying each and every one of them with his black baculus.

"Frau? Are you awake?" Teito didn't wait for a reply, pushing the door open. The coffin was closed and Teito knocked on it. "Come on out Frau, morning prayers are beginning and Jiro-sama is going to be so pissed if we are late again!"

"Calm down, you brat. I was just leaving." Frau emerged from a corner, having finished donning his robes, perching the square hat on his head. Teito was glad that the gap in height between the both of them was lessened somewhat, but it still meant that he had to look up whenever he was talking to Frau. He couldn't help but roll his eyes. Finally, someone decided to get his game together and act the way he was supposed to be.

Teito couldn't stop thinking about the rumours about Saar. Students had come together, united against the factor of the unknown. Of course, the novelty of having a warsfeil that was not aggressive made for gossip fodder. Frau could not help but notice that Teito's face was contorted to something of severe concentration. Their heels clicked in synchrony across the marble floors, most of the church probably already gathered in the main hall. But the bells haven't rung a second time, so they were yet to be late.

"What's bothering you?" Teito shrugged at the question. He didn't know whether it was appropriate to ask about the warsfeil, but he might as well, since if he never got around to it he never would.

"I was just thinking of all the rumours I've heard about Saar," Frau tensed when he heard the subject matter, but he merely let out a knowing sigh.

"If you want me to explain things, I'll have to do it after prayers," he said, pushing doors open as the noise of the chatter in the main hall overwhelmed their speech. "There's too much to discuss and not much time before service starts. Just look for me later for sparring. Maybe we can discuss this then."

The prayers were nothing new. The second bell would chime, and everyone got on their knees, praying the same things. Teito was seated in the front with all the other apprentices. Despite all that happened, despite Teito's intention to focus his spirit on prayer, the questions only continued to flow. It was the same feeling with questions about himself and his past, when his memories were all but puzzles, except that this time the subject of his interest was someone else. The rumours had been about his abilities, his personality. Some said he could use all three types of zaiphon. It was a difficult notion to comprehend, but since Capella had been capable of using both types, why not all three? Though it would be superbly rare, considering that manipulation type zaiphon users were rare as well.

Another thing was his presence: he needed no rumour to confirm that he could never conceal his presence entirely, and had since given up. Saar held an ominous aura, unlike Teito. That, Teito could attribute to having been a battle slave, an assassin, for a good part of his life. But the man himself was huge: almost as tall as Frau, and Teito wondered if it was ever possible to conceal a presence that large. The presence of a continually black baculus unnerved him, but there was nothing to be done.

Before he knew it, prayers were over with the chime of the archbishop's bell, having just given the benediction. Well, if Teito wanted to ask Frau about Saar, he would just have to wait for the day, walking aside the man, not knowing if he should pursue the matter on the way to breakfast.

"You know the bishop apprenticeship examination is tomorrow, right?" Speaking of which, that means that Lance should be back sometime today to judge the examinations. "Perhaps if you want to know more about Saar, then you should watch his progress during the examination. After all, actions do speak louder than words, don't they?"

That was all the discussion Frau would entertain him with as they sat down to breakfast. While Castor, Labrador and Frau exchanged lively conversation with Rosalie, Libelle and Athena, Teito only occasionally looked up to reply the sparse question he had been posed with. It felt odd being in a position he knew Mikage once faced with him. But unlike Mikage, he wasn't kind enough to approach a stranger in the face with goofy antics and the whole friendship thing. Mikage perched on his shoulder, sensing his worry.

_Teito… worried?_ The boy shook his head. It was not so much worry as curiosity. _Now… Teito knows, Mikage felt first time… see Teito._ That statement only reaffirmed what he felt. Today was laundry day, and he had all morning to ponder. Perhaps even Razette would offer him inspiration on the issue as the sun began to rise, Teito feeling something of jealousy that the noel mermaid would only have to wake for mass and sleep from sundown to sunrise.

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><p>"Today will be your last chance to practise, so make full use of it, alright?"<p>

Saar felt the weight of the bracelets that indicated him a warsfeil suddenly sink like lead. So the examinations would commence tomorrow, and judging from the chatter that went around the class it would be hard as hell. He wasn't able to judge, but such things could never be reliable enough for him. Gripping the baculus tighter in his hand, the doors opened, revealing the long corridor that was the training hall. Blue flame glowed where the arches met at the peak, plenty of Kor swimming about in the black depths of water. The room was much colder inside too, as if all the soul had been sucked out by the existence of those banal beings.

He immediately walked to the furthest end of the corridor, stopping where only a dead wall of water was. A mass of Kor had begun to float toward the students, sensing the souls that they so desperately sought to steal, kill and destroy, along with their inevitable death when Verloren would be put out of his misery by the Chief of Heaven. Behind him he could hear the bursts of zaiphon, carelessly aimed and shattering some on luck. He would have to leave them be, because they would complain if he tried to master the use of the baculus and accidentally wipe out the whole containment. And they would complain if he were to be careless and taint the room with his presence, as much as he tried to hold it back. It was silly though, considering the barrier around and within the church that limited the works of warsfeil, though that wouldn't be a problem should he master the use of the baculus.

The staff itself was a cold, dark ebony. He had never been able to hold one without it turning black as midnight. Even as he held it against the background of the water, only the words that had been engraved into it stood out by the shadow of the lights. This would be the fifth of the high-levelled staves that Castor had granted to him, and probably the best that he would ever receive… Castor was a good man, even taking the time to assess his skill, despite him being nothing but a nuisance to the church. They always ignored his words demanding independence, and the more he tried to push them aside the more they watched, just to support him. The novice baculus were no good: they always cracked and shattered, as much as he tried to hold back the feelings that flowed through the weapon.

_Why do you not command us, master?_ He looked up to see a mass of Kors gathering where he stood, held back only by the water. _Why do you run away from what you are destined to do? It is easy enough: all those childish, ignorant brats over there. Don't you hate them? Don't you realise they can be put to better use as wars, to fight for the truth that Verloren never had a chance to explain? Come now, stretch out your hand, and take their souls from them._

He never liked the voice of Kors. It was a deep, scratchy noise that sank right into the depths of the human psyche, taking advantage of every single foothold they would find. He could still hear explosions coming from behind him but he rapped his baculus on the ground, filling it with his energy. "Your kind: they are the ignorant ones." His voice carried across the water, making it ripple. "How many times have I told your brethren, that one's truth is only an illusion if it is based on a web of lies?" As his frustration bubbled, the lines of zaiphon rose around him, emanating from his baculus.

_You know that there is only one truth._ This time the voices cumulatively spoke, drowning the chamber in speech as the students became silent. The sister on duty turned to see the wall of Kor surrounding Saar. The air had suddenly chilled to become ice-cold. A draft of wind picked up, turning into a violent tempest as Saar lashed out, his baculus connecting with the barrier.

"That truth will NEVER be yours!"

The force sent a ripple throughout the water, churning it inside out as the bright light seeped from his staff into the clear liquid. The sound of Kor fleeing reminded him of mice – elusive, hard to catch. The more he dwelled on it, the more significant the issue seemed to become: unravelling the truth of the world and the intent of Heaven. How would it be done? Was he really living in the light of a lie? His frustration threatened to spill over as he heard a thunderous, monstrous crack. Light engulfed every corner of the containment chamber, dissolving Kors the instant it touched. But Saar was blind to it: all he could see was a light that cast a shadow on the reality he was walking on: was it real, or was it an illusion?

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><p>Teito examined one of Castor's puppets as it lay still on the table, Kor wings outstretched. He had sealed the Kor within the form. It didn't help that it held the face of Frau: the real Frau looked disapprovingly, but said nothing. He had been used to this already since Teito had learnt to use his first baculus. Castor and Labrador were there as well. Apparently this was a class of grave significance that Castor – now the assistant archbishop – had an entire order of bishops and their apprentices watching the demonstration.<p>

"As most of you know, harnessing zaiphon directly will not hurt the spiritual beings that are the Kor, but will hurt the physical vessel. However, those with offensive zaiphon using the baculus are at equal risk of damaging the person as well. This is because while you may aim for the wings, the bolt could always miss and hit the person square in the body." Frau was yawning. Perhaps he had seen this a thousand times, but Teito wasn't going to slack off just because his master was. He might have been talented, having learnt how to exorcise Kor simply by watching Bastien, but not everyone was a gifted as Frau was.

"However, we have discovered a method that would allow one to exorcise the Kor cleanly as with the healing-type zaiphon users. Bishop Labrador will first demonstrate." The lavender-haired bishop stepped forward, laying his hands on the body of the puppet. Even without his baculus the zaiphon formed cleanly in crisp, black words and a blue aura that seemed brighter than usual. It was characteristic of the healing-types: gentle motions coaxed the strings of words around the puppet, enclosing the Kor at the heart and pulling it out, causing the wings to dissolve as Labrador overwhelmed the Kor with the tightness of the seal. "As you can see, healing-type zaiphon users have to exorcise Kor by overwhelming them with their zaiphon: the holy power that they wield eventually causes them to disintegrate. However, with offensive zaiphon, you can learn to shape it in a shield as well, effectively isolating the Kor. When it is out of the body, you can just attack it as you will the wing of a person possessed, thereby exorcising the Kor from the person without harm."

The puppet was replaced with a real person: a child, probably no more than five years of age. Castor gestured for a volunteer, but no one dared risk the life of a child to experiment. Castor gave a smile, then turned to Teito.

"Try it, Teito. Since you know how to create a shield using zaiphon, just manipulate it using the baculus." Teito's body moved on its own as he realised Castor was the bastard who was forcing his limbs with motion. But now that he was assistant Archbishop, Teito couldn't exactly complain in front of Castor's subordinates. He regained command of his body, moving forward more swiftly as the smile of Castor's face grew slightly wider, thankful that his little push had worked out so well.

Teito examined the little angel: her hair was long and blonde. Her face was still, too still for a child her age. It looked as if she were dead to the world, in deep slumber, as her hands were clasped over her abdomen. The mark of the Kor was prominent with the frock she was wearing: on the collar bone, where it could be seen too easily. Teito prayed to god that he wouldn't end up killing the child with his good intent, the feelings he had subconsciously travelling into his staff as it formed a small ball of blue zaiphon. The offensive type was a darker shade of aqua, indicating the strength needed to defeat the enemies of god.

"That's it. Now lower your zaiphon to encompass the seal where the Kor is centralised." He did as Castor's gentle voice instructed. He could no longer hear Frau's snoring, and wondered if the man was watching his apprentice. He was determined not to screw up, not to be a liability to the church as the ball swooped onto her body, sealing itself to the insignia like an eagle homing on its prey. He could see the Kor struggling, tugging at the little girl's soul. He was lucky that a child's soul was pure and full of good intent, fighting back the evil with initiative as he severed the bones that attempted to pierce her heart, encompassing it in a shell of zaiphon. Teito released a breath he never knew he had been holding as the seal peeled off the skin with the bubble, leaving a pair of bony wings encapsulated in the string of words.

"There! That's fantastic for a first try. I'm glad that you've been practising to manipulate your zaiphon, even when a certain someone never really told you how to do so." That last part was no more than a murmur but Frau caught it, sending him into exaggerated fits of anger as Labrador joined in the mockery. Teito held the Kor in the palm of its hand: the spirit being did not dare to extend its wings. One false move and it would be cut to shreds in the ball of offensive zaiphon. As Teito readied to crush the Kor he heard a rumble and a roar coming from under him as the earth shook slightly. The bishops erupted in a chorus of whispers.

Suddenly that roar became very real as one, two and three geysers sprayed into the sky, lit up from below in a pure light. There were more eruptions that came along in an entire straight stretch that was identical to the path of the containment chamber, sending brothers and sisters of the church scrambling in fright. Teito accidentally dissolved his zaiphon in awe, letting the Kor fly freely. A yell from one of the observant bishops sent him scrambling to cut the Kor in mid-flight, locking on to its target and striking it with perfect accuracy as dust sprayed across the room, glittering. Two trainings in one session, perfect.

"What was that?"

A sister that barged into the room said everything. The containment chamber was breached in several areas because of a massive outburst by Saar, but all the Kor were eliminated, just like the past few times. So it had been Saar who eliminated every single Kor for the past few weeks, huh? Teito realised that this was a piece of information that allowed him to judge the man's ability: he remembered the time where Bastien had told him to think of serving god, where he thought of Mikage, the friendship which they both shared that went beyond mortality: it had allowed him to blast a hole right through the containment facility as well, but he had only managed to destroy two Kor that were in the way of the blast. This sounded more like Frau: immense power that wiped out the fears of all the other examinees in the past.

A hand on his shoulder made him look up to see Frau's face stern, unyielding.

"Whatever you do, do not approach Saar," were the words he uttered. Teito didn't understand it at first. "He's a warsfeil: if he were to create a wars out of anyone you'd been in deep shit. Even travelling around the seven districts hasn't taught you to effectively purify a soul, and so I don't trust you to handle him unless you're with me, got it brat?"

"Stop it with the brat thing, dammit!" Teito swept the hand off his shoulder, yelling at Frau. "It's been two years and I'm not a brat, never was!" The smirk on Frau's face told Teito that he thought otherwise. He would always be a brat to Frau: he could only pray that one day he would stop that overtly condescending tone when addressing him, as much as Teito was used to it. It seemed more like a pipe dream though.

But all things considered, Frau asking him not to be in contact with Saar only made Teito want to pursue the matter even further. Had it been the same for Mikage when he first heard and saw Teito in the military academy? Teito felt his footsteps waver as he exited the chamber with the dismissal of class. Mikage gripped tightly to the fabric of his smock, the swaying platform that was Teito not being a reliable place to stand any longer as he jumped, soaring into the air above Teito.

"Mikage… you can fly?" Teito's eyes widened in disbelief. Stunned: that was the word. Suddenly he was laughing, happy, smiling. _Smiling_. Mikage settled back on his shoulder once more.

_Teito… do what you must do. Not because people tell you to, but because it is the right thing to do._ That sentence resonated within him, making his heart stop for a beat. It was Mikage that spoke yet again, but this time it sounded wiser, like how the fyulong dragon had spoke to him once. It called out the question of him visiting the hall of mirrors to look into his heart for the answer: Mikage had made it clear. He was not going to listen to Frau, because he himself had witnessed the ostracism that the supposed "children of god" were dealing to Saar. He would not let such things get in the way. If he had to grow stronger to protect himself, then he would, but he couldn't just stand there and do nothing, not when a person was going through the same thing that he did, something he never really desired, and something that would break their soul if they didn't stop.

Teito set his footsteps, determined. He would have to ask Razette to guide him to the light prison and hopefully, with her help, he would find out who Saar was once and for all.

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><p>Saar was back in his cell early.<p>

Surprisingly, that explosion in the training hall hadn't caused his baculus to crack. He had definitely heard the sound of it, loud enough that it was like a thunderous roar. Maybe this was a special one, designed to repair itself? Or perhaps it had merely made that sound to accommodate the zaiphon that he had forced through with the surge of emotion. He wouldn't know, not unless he asked Castor himself. That bishop was the one who had gifted all his baculus to Saar all this time. _What does Bishop Castor see in me that he continues to support me, even if it's in gifting these special, unique weapons? How is it that he would trust me? No… maybe it's not trust, or maybe he is just waiting to see how I can fulfil my potential. I can't say for sure that he trusts me. He did mention that this… belonged to a man who was powerful, but used his powers for a wronged justice._

The bishop apprenticeship examinations were tomorrow. Saar got down on the floor, pivoting his feet on the edge of his bed, feeling the strain in his arms as he began counting. One, two, three… the push ups were merely a distraction, a time-waster. He had no one to talk to, nothing to do, so he might as well attempt to improve his strength and stamina in this jail cell while he was at it. Twenty and still going strong: he _had_ improved since coming, feeling contractions in his arms, his chest and back. That was where he needed it to be. Pity he couldn't run around freely, otherwise he might have factored in a little bit of running to remove that last bit of stubborn flab around his belly. Fifty push ups, and his arms started to feel the burn. His eyes watered slightly as he forced himself to continue as if he felt nothing. Seventy five, seventy six, seventy seven…

The knock on the glass stunned him a little, causing his sweaty palms to slip, making him land face-first on the cold concrete floor. He heard a song coming from the window as he scrambled to his feet. Razette! So she had come. He expressed his relief with a little song of his own. He had no one to thank but the Chief of Heaven and the gypsies for teaching him to sing as he did, the noel mermaid letting out a squeal of delight as she sang back. Somehow her singing touched his heart, black as he knew it was. Through her song she spoke to him.

_You have a visitor, Saar._

**A visitor?** he sang back, but Razette simply smiled, moving her face to occupy half the window as a familiar second face took the other half. It had been the bishop apprentice he bumped into while going for morning prayers… Teito Klein? Now that he had the time to examine the man in person, the descriptions of the teenager he overheard had been true: emerald eyes that held a sincere heart, brown hair and a skinny build. And short too. Teito extended a hand that spelt words in zaiphon.

"You don't get much visitors here, huh?" Saar wondered if he should speak back, deciding that writing letters with zaiphon was too large a risk.

"Why don't you try telling that to the Archbishop or the Imperial Guard? I'm sure they'd be very happy to let a legion of priests turn into wars, barrier willing. It's not that anyone would want to visit anyway." The last statement wasn't much true: Teito had visited him, even if for the first time since Saar arrived in the church. Something stirred within his heart, prompting him to write another sentence. "Thanks for coming to see me, but what do you want?"

"I don't want anything," was the reply. "I came here to see how you were doing, and to wish you good luck for you examination tomorrow." Teito's hands drifted through the water slowly, spreading the words before him like a scroll. "It's good enough that you're considerate about how writing a message with tainted zaiphon would appear. I really hope the church begins to trust that you have no malicious intent. Frau actually forbade me to contact you."

"But obviously you did," he tried to smile, and Razette did it when he couldn't. Teito cocked his head to the side. What Saar read was interesting.

"I've heard stuff and seen stuff. People avoid you, say bad things about you. I've been there too. I hope to get to know you better, so do your best and pass the examination, alright?"

Why would someone care about him? He couldn't understand it: he was a warsfeil, and no one wanted to have anything with a warsfeil. He just shook his head. "I don't understand why you're doing this, but I thank you."

"Trust me, I didn't either. But you will, eventually." Teito's eyes sparkled in the blue cage that surrounded Saar. "Oh, and since you don't have a roommate, who's going to be your partner for the examination?"

"I have no idea, but I hope it's someone dependable. Maybe they are betting on someone getting sick, or having an odd number of candidates." Teito recoiled slightly at how frank Saar was in his reply. To think that at one point of time he had been as such. "How was your apprenticeship test like?"

"Mine was easy enough, thanks to my roommate. A certain Hakuren Oak, if you've heard of the Princess' tutor. He was under Castor, but because he's serving under the royal family, he's more of a bishop apprentice-at-large. The first test should be a breeze for you, that is unless Lance goes insane again this year. The sisters have been complaining of dropping standards, that's why no one has become an apprentice last year. But I've heard you are smart."

"Heard is the word. Word out on the street is never reliable."

"You look smart." Razette sung in concurrence.

"I appreciate that." He heard the rattle of the lift as it made its way down the shaft. "Oops, we have company."

"Then I guess I'll leave here," Teito wrote quickly. "Good luck with your examination again. May god be with you!"

Teito concealed his presence so quickly that Saar didn't even have time to reply. He knocked his head against the barrier for his being slow, looking at Razette. So the boy knew how to get back to the surface on his own? All he could be thankful for was that she was there, someone to sing with and sing to. He would spend the night conversing with her in the language of the noel mermaids, not truly understanding the literal meaning, but letting her song touch his heart. All he could hope was that it was the start of something new, hearing the clank of the dinner tray with the sound of the gates as he turned to see the imperial guard watching him. He matched that with a glare of his own, before he returned to singing.

_Sing a song of the gypsies that you learnt, one that you haven't already sung before._

As he stood against the wall, memories of his travel began to float to the surface of his mind. He was still surprised that they had let him escape without so much as sending people to pursue him. The money he had taken was enough, but on that trip, what he lacked was human presence and human trust. It was because of the wanderers that he had survived, that he had not broken down halfway and gone insane by himself. It was their company that made him still live to this day, to the extent that they didn't care about him possibly ripping their souls, consuming them. They just saw him an outcast, and removed that status.

The song that came to mind was a stair song: a play on lyrics, shifting the position of each word and the grammar and changing the meaning of the sentence. Razette closed her eyes as she listened to the haunting melody that she would learn to sing to.

_**The sky bleeds red, crying for the souls of men.  
>When the sky bleeds red, it cries for the souls.<br>Only when the sky bleeds red, it cries.  
>Knowing only when the sky bleeds red,<br>Us, knowing only when the sky bleeds,  
>will we die to ourselves.<strong>_

_**The moon is queen, and the sun is king.  
>Worship the moon-queen, and the sun.<br>No worshipping the moon and sun.  
>Against not worshipping the moon and sun,<br>the people never surrender.**_

_**Sing with your soul, the lonely vagrant.  
>Always sing with your soul, all you lonely.<br>Trying to always sing with your soul,  
>it burns to death.<strong>_

_**Freedom in love, so the lovers claim.  
>No freedom in love, so the lovers,<br>they stay chained.**_

_**Speak with your mind,  
>with your mind, speak.<strong>_

_**Until you have no breath.**_


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: To my anon reviewers, feel free to email me your contacts so that I can address questions in your reviews and understand what I need to edit without going into long dissertations in the author's notes. Another slow chapter, but I promise some action in the next chapter! It will take a while though, since I'm sitting for the biggest exams of my life at the moment. Also: while writing this I might have overlooked some inconsistencies (none I hope) so feel free to point them out. So Read and **Review** please!

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

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><p>It seemed like as though the church came to a standstill when the examinations began. Lance had promised "a massive, huge party", though Teito hadn't known what to make of it. Was he referring to the exam itself? Or was he referring to how he would reward those would came out of the second test, successful? Teito had been observing since it started, keeping his eye on Saar. He still remembered how he introduced himself: Saar, surname abandoned. Was that even his real name? A check came up with its meaning: Storm. Surely he was one to whip up a storm, though the entire examination hall had cleared with the initial rush of people until both Saar and a young skinny lad were left. Saar's conditions had been that he will protect the boy at all costs, but he must contribute his half. They had almost failed at the pit of fear: it was only through sheer determination and a lot of yelling that Saar managed to make the boy's fears disappear. The warsfeil had walked through the black muck clawing at his feet like as though he felt nothing. Teito and Hakuren hadn't had the experience of feeling fear grappling at their feet for more than a second, but it seemed so heavy, since it made most other candidates essentially immobile.<p>

The hundred questions… the pact they made earlier seemed to be working: Saar knew that of the two, he was the one with greater strength, so he left the answering to the boy, who always called out to confirm the answer before inscribing the words on the wall. They were slow, but they were steady. The natural leadership that came with Saar was evident, but Teito could see a concerted effort to make this something that the both of them would have to partake in.

The Kor Palace had been no problem. Saar had shot at each and every Kor that dared approach his teammate, even if it took so long that he had to continually pause for air through the barrier. Saar had begun to grow impatient, inscribing three answers where his partner had done for one. Eventually they passed, gasping at the fresh, light atmosphere as they pulled out of the barrier. Lance gave a disgruntled look: it was a slow, slow fight for the both of them.

Eventually, Saar had to let go of the pact made between them. He protected the boy with his skills, yet not once touching him. Was it because he was afraid of tainting the boy? He always limited himself to using shields to protect the boy, but never directly coming into contact with him. _I hope he doesn't get the wrong idea,_ Teito wondered. _It's impossible that he does not know Saar is a warsfeil. The entire church knows. Even the civilians know. Even Lance knows, and he just came yesterday._ The arbiter of the exam commented on how slow the team was, and Teito had the mind to give him an earful but decided against it, hoping with all hope that the successful applicant chair would be something far more comfortable to fall into this year.

The chasm: why was the exam so similar to his? Perhaps the questions had been more difficult, but the challenges were still the same. He watched as Saar leapt carefully from precipice to precipice, searching for the question and making sure his team mate was behind all the way. Teito had managed to identify the long-answer question earlier and thought it ridiculous. _What was the cause of the fall of man?_ The answer key he saw held an entire essay that granted absolutely no leeway in terminology, yet Saar had been the one to run, dragging his partner along without touching him, while inscribing the answer, one paragraph at a time, shooting his memories of the texts out at the wall. That had been a most interesting question, and one paragraph had been carved particularly deep, a section of vanity, like he was mocking Lance and his frilly demeanour.

Teito counted the number of candidates that had made it to the ropes with the chasm of fear: most of the students had been stuck with the essay, still running in circles as rolling beasts threatened to trample them. When asked why the exam was so vicious, Lance had only replied with a question of his own: "You've travelled the world as an apprentice with Frau. Even without having left the church, which was more vicious, the exam, or the world?" Though the world didn't have creatures that chased you down a narrow walkway, the secrets it held were certainly more dangerous, more cruel than the circumstances of the apprentice exam. He watched as Saar stood at the edge of a rope that was free from the gnawing creatures.

"Get up and walk. Or crawl, I don't really care. But we have to do this together." At that point the boy's spirit was nearly crushed. Walking like an expert tightrope walker. He was large for his age, but his ability to balance was amazing, holding the baculus like a pole to balance his own weight. Looking down into the darkness he saw nothing but an abyss trying to pull him down, extending its arms to drag them to hell. But he soldiered on, just like the first hall where he walked like as though the pull of fear and despair was merely a step in a puddle. He turned to face the boy again. "Jamais, right? You have to do it. Otherwise, it would have been pointless from the start, enrolling into the examination without so much as the will to try anything that is handed to you. Stop mulling and actually do something!" He kicked the strand of fear away, swatting it like a swarm of flies as it dissipated.

"He refuses to accept his fears," Lance commented. "He doesn't even know his fears, but they will always be there, always be in his life until he gets rid of it once and for all." He never noticed the rat that sneakily crept from behind, chewing onto his rope until he felt a sag, by which he fell and grabbed the rope as it swung towards the wall, much like how Teito and Hakuren had done, except with the weight of two additional men. Teito saw the flash of blood red as the point of impact, the weight that was Saar bouncing across the wall as the momentum propelled them upwards into the air. He landed on a cushion of zaiphon, his partner looking shell-shocked.

"Get over here, dammit!" Saar ran back across another rope to where they had started. "I won't get onto that rope until you take the first step. I'll be behind you: I promised to guard you throughout the exam, as much of a stranger you are to me, and I haven't failed you yet. Why should I fail you now?"

For the first time since the examination began, Teito saw Saar give the boy – Jamais – a little shove. He couldn't be certain whether his touch contained the taint, but nothing seemed to happen to the boy. He just stared across the chasm, swallowed his fear and stepped on the rope.

"Atta boy," Saar gave a relieved breath as he balanced himself on the rope. "Now, just walk the damn thing like you would a normal path." He extended his zaiphon under the rope, creating a path to reassure the boy despite its redness. "With this you can't fall, so just go."

Teito could see some form of terror as the boy made his way to the hundredth question in a sort of penguin-waddle, fear grasping at the edges of his psyche. Those black shadows never got close enough as Saar hacked away at them with his Baculus: the one black, ornamented staff in the crowd of brown student weapons. Teito examined it closer… was that not Bastien's baculus? How had he acquired the use of such a professional-grade staff?

The door! The door of the victor, and the door of the defeated stood in front of them. Teito knew the true purpose of the question, but did they? _Inscribe the name of the victor on the wall._

"Saar, you should go ahead to the victor's door," Jamais wheezed. The warsfeil knelt down beside the younger boy, lending him an ear. "You're the one that brought me this far… I stand no chance against you, so you should go."

"Not a chance," Saar remarked. "I really don't care what the instructions say, really. No one can stop us if we both enter either door together. We were supposed to do this in pairs. Why is there any need to stop when the examination isn't over? There will always be victors and losers, but none are forever, so it doesn't matter."

_That guy really is smart,_ Teito thought as Saar straightened himself out. _But is smartness enough when he deals with the second examination?_ The door of the defeated opened as they both stepped through instinctively. It was darkness that greeted them, but at the end they could see a light. _No question for them? Perhaps Lance already heard them, awarding them a pass because of that dialogue they had outside._

"It really doesn't make sense," Saar spoke to Jamais. "There is no question. If I were to help people attain their goals, what use is it being on top of them, being overbearing? One has to be supported from the foundation. It allows the tower to be built. The tower, on the other hand, does not build the ground." And with that he stepped into the light, hearing a clatter behind him.

"Well done, Saar."

Castor? When did he appear? This time there was no dropping onto chairs, only a walk into a hall where the examiners stood and waited. Castor was present in his formal robes, gesturing for Jamais. The boy lurched forward: only then did Teito realise that he was nothing more than a puppet to accompany Saar throughout his examination, the visible joints revealing themselves when its cloak lifted in the air told Saar of its artificiality.

"Initially you were insistent that this person played an equal role in getting the both of you to pass, but as the examination progressed you realised that it would be unreliable to depend on someone who is less knowledgeable and at a disadvantage, so you decided to support them instead. You even strove to uphold precautions to prevent them from being tainted." So Castor had been watching as well. Or maybe Lance had told him of that unusual pattern: helping without a physical hand. Castor placed one of his hands on the baculus: both Saar and Castor stood, facing nearly eye-to-eye, with Saar being the taller of the two. He knelt down in respect of the authority that spoke those words, whether genuine or fake, Teito couldn't tell.

"This baculus I gave you belonged to a man who strived for justice. His justice, however, was flawed. As you might have already known, he used the dark arts to achieve his ends, even as he tried his best to stay grounded in reality. In the end he lost both his life and the respect from him. I hope that by holding onto this baculus, through which he gave born blessings and curses, that you remember the dual nature of the powers you wield, and the conflict that will exist in your soul that will last until your end. Will you be ready to accept this eternal dilemma, even if you know that there will be no reward?"

Saar kept his head bowed as he spoke, as modest and as humbly as he could put it.

"If through helping people I may find peace in my next life, to eventually return to the Chief of Heaven no matter how many cycles it takes…" he paused for a moment, as if hesitant, but spat the scepticism aside.

"Then I accept this challenge, Bishop Castor."

* * *

><p>For once, the office was quiet. Konatsu turned his head to examine the room: Kuroyuri was asleep on Haruse's lap, the young pink-haired boy drooling all over his Begleiter's uniform. Hyuuga and Katsuragi were nowhere to be seen and nowhere to be heard either. Settling administrative duties was strangely unsettling without the constant yelling and insane antics of his squad, but Konatsu took it in his stride, examining an envelope from the pile that Hyuuga had dumped on his desk in the morning. Perhaps he was being too nice to Hyuuga, but without him Konatsu would never have been in the Black Hawks, so he had no reason to complain. The fight between Hyuuga and himself remained one of his most treasured memories: it had been the only time where he felt unworthy of his reward, honoured in a fight that was as one-sided as it had been. He glanced over at that katana – the one Hyuuga had given to him and the only one that he used. Slicing the envelope open without a thought, the letter slipped out as he read the address.<p>

It was from the house of the Warren family – his home. Scrambling to pick the letter he unfolded the creases to see familiar handwriting of his grandfather at the house before he had been shipped off to the military academy. Being frank to himself, Konatsu was surprised the man was in good health. It was nothing new, grandfather writing him letters, but it was unlike him to be writing in the middle of the month.

_Konatsu, I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to inform you that Takeshi has been missing for two months now. I never thought to write about it to you until we realised he wowuld never come back, but only Verloren knows where he went. If he still matters to you, I hope you take it to heart that he couldn't have gone very far by himself in two months. The amount of money he has is limited and as a warsfeil he has no place to go. No one at the house cares about a child that was born out of wedlock, but I am hoping that you still care about him, even as it has been many years since you last saw him._

_Sincerely  
>Grandfather<em>

Short and concise: that was the way the man was. Konatsu didn't know what to do with the letter, so he filed it under "pending". Takeshi was an issue that he had long since forgotten about, but as he sorted through more forms and letters, memories began to surface within him. Takeshi had been a name randomly assigned to the lad, because it had been so common, and father couldn't care about a child that was born out of wedlock. Both him and his mother lived in the servants' quarters so that they could be watched without having to come into the line of sight of the family. It was an action that his father regretted and was not willing to disclose at the expense of the family name. Konatsu's grandfather had scolded him, calling him irresponsible and taking both child and mother under his wing.

Together, Konatsu and Takeshi had fought and learnt. Takeshi hadn't been fast with a sword, but his strength, build and intellect had made him an excellent warsfeil. That trait alone made him seemed to atone for his misfortune as a bastard child as he recalled how they pushed each other to their limits. Grandfather had mentioned something too… being born at the same time, both of them were half-brothers. But unlike Konatsu, Takeshi was not of pure noble lineage, and his tainted black hair and golden eyes seemed to rebel against the head of the household, as if mocking him. _See, your son has no powers: I took all of them because of your stupid mistake, and now your offspring will pay._

Konatsu himself had never seen it that way, but if Verloren wished it then so be it. But their bond as brothers had been so strong, so why did he escape from the house? Perhaps he had come to look for Konatsu, but lost himself along the way? He stood at his desk, thinking of leaving it for a moment, before seating himself back down, drawing a curious stare from Haruse. Konatsu decided to finish his paperwork first before he set out to try something he never expected he would have to do. It seemed to grant him twice his efficiency as the pile fell on one side and rose on the other. This time he stood, a stack of papers in his hands that he delivered to the respective departments on the way to his chambers, excusing himself from Haruse's and Kuroyuri's presence.

Throwing the doors to his room open, he ran to the cupboard that contained his belongings. What was this feeling that made him so flustered? He dug deep into the shelf and was rewarded when he felt a square box in the darkness, pulling it out of the abyss as he sat on the bed with a huff. It was a box that shared memories of his time with Takeshi. Why he had buried it so deep, he had forgotten. Perhaps he promised something to Takeshi which he never managed to fulfil, or something along those lines. But as he opened the box he looked for one particular object. It stood out suitably enough: a phylactery. The vial of blood was more black than red, but Konatsu remembered what Takeshi had said on the day of his departure.

_It's for you and you only, should you choose for our paths to collide again in the future. This will show you your way._

The amount of blood was paltry, but as Konatsu uncorked it hesitantly a rush of zaiphon streamed out, forming a path that led out of his room. He yelled at the prospect of having others see the marks left inscribed on the floors and walls of the academy, but as he peeked outside the only thing passers by noticed was his head sticking out of the doorway. _So this really was for me alone, huh?_ He saw something white in the box, something he hadn't noticed earlier.

_The path will be visible only to you, and will lead directly to me, wherever I am. It will last until you no longer need a guide._

What was Konatsu to do? He couldn't leave the academy on a whim and moment's notice, but something bugged him enough that he felt he should pursue Takeshi. He would have to apply for leave, if the Black Hawks were ever granted leave in the first place. It was just so sudden, so spontaneous and something strangely out of the blue. As he entered the office he saw that Kuroyuri was still sleeping, but turning to his desk his jaw dropped and he thought he might faint. The wall of paper that had appeared out of nowhere overwhelmed him as he sunk into his chair, turning round and round. The only thing he knew he could do was to wait and see, and depending on Ayanami's schedule they or might not have a length of freedom during the Holy period of celebration during Winter.

Konatsu stood from his chair as someone came in through the door. He bristled when he saw Hyuuga.

"Ah, Konatsu. Help me out with the paperwork, okay?" He grinned cheekily, knowing that he had come in at the wrong time as Konatsu stammered.

"Hyuuga-san, please do your own paperwork! Do you know how much of a pain it is?" Konatsu ran after his officer, not willing to give up, yelling down the corridor. "Do you know how unethical it is, torturing me with your stacks of daily paperwork? Please Hyuuga-san, at least do some of it yourself…"

And the office was left in silence again, Haruse and Kuroyuri still where they were like stone statues that never moved.

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><p>Teito wandered aimlessly around the courtyard looking at the examinees that passed the first examination. The number was few enough that he could count them with the fingers of his hands, but as he stepped into the central courtyard he heard the clatter of footsteps behind him along with the freshness of a breath of air that always came with that soul. The familiar voice called out to him when he turned.<p>

"Teito!"

It was Ouida. Now that he thought about it, a long time had passed since they talked to each other. Teito couldn't help but notice how Ouida's hair now threatened to sweep the floor as it flew behind him. He offered a wave, and waited for the fellow apprentice to catch up with him as they began walking to the courtyard.

"Today's a slow day, huh?" Ouida commented. "With the examination going on, most of the church is busy accommodating the examinees and finishing paperwork for those who are carrying on for another year. Even Labrador-san has had to pitch in." Being with Ouida was refreshing: other than Hakuren, he was the only apprentice Teito's age and probably the only one he could relate to after Hakuren's enlistment at the royal Barsburg Palace. Teito didn't know how to reply, but as he walked he remembered Liam.

"Did Liam manage to pass this year?" Teito asked. Ouida looked taken aback at Teito's question, not expecting him to have remembered, but smiled in the next moment, shaking his head.

"The essay question probably killed off the majority of the failures and he was no different. I offered to tutor him for this exam, but that boy's insistent." Ouida gave a reminiscent sigh. "He doesn't want to be dependent on me anymore, you see. Liam decided that there are some things which he must pursue by himself, and the passing of the examination is one of those things. I'm just hoping that the fire doesn't die out before I become a bishop, or anytime for that matter."

"I'm sure he'll do his best," Teito offered. "Besides, both of you continue to live in the church, so as long as he fixes his gaze on his goal and strengthens himself with the bonds you have between the both of you as brothers, things can only go up." Teito was surprised at the words he had said. Two years ago he would have never expected to show sympathy or console anyone, not even himself. But now he found his tongue had grown a mind of its own, responding to others with his care and concern however he could. Mikage gave a purr of agreement as Teito stroked him under the chin.

Teito spotted Saar, sitting alone at the central fountain as he watched the other candidates talk excitedly about their passes and failures, about their regrets regarding the examination. Teito felt something resonate within his heart at the loneliness that Saar seemed to exude from his being as he swallowed hard. Ouida followed Teito's gaze, locking onto Saar. "Ah, the warsfeil."

"His name is Saar, and he passed the first examination." Ouida watched as Teito approached Saar, who now had his back turned against the rest of the world, facing the water and probably examining his reflection. Teito's footsteps became quicker and Ouida followed, though he had no reason to. Being near a warsfeil was a risk, a liability that was too big. A year and a half of apprenticeship had yet to teach him how to exorcise wars without purification by holy water, and even as he walked now he felt the vial in his pockets, holding it firmly in his hands. He could not trust a warsfeil, even one that the archbishop deemed suitable to live on church grounds. As they approached, Ouida could see that he wasn't staring at his reflection in the water, but rather he was talking – no, singing – to the noel mermaid. Something welled up inside him: surprise? Curiosity?

Razette turned to acknowledge Teito, but sank a bit lower to eye level when she saw Ouida. Saar turned as he saw shadows imposing on his figure. "Ah, Teito-san. And this is…?"

"Ouida. Pleased to meet you." Ouida extended an arm to shake with Saar, but the warsfeil backed away slightly, holding his palms up at Ouida's gesture. It took him a second, but Ouida realised what touching a warsfeil entailed, so he withdrew the hand and bowed slightly instead. Saar promptly stood and bowed.

"Pleased to meet you, Ouida-san." Teito could see Ouida looking somewhat unnerved but Saar took the initiative. "I'm sorry if I bother you, Ouida-san. I'll take my leave now."

"No, no! It's fine." Ouida blurted. Teito watched as Saar analysed the apprentice with those golden eyes, taking his time to judge, before smiling slightly and sitting back where he was at the fountain. "Teito just saw you and thought you would appreciate some… company."

"Thanks."

That was all they got out of him as they sat there, one on each side. The silence was too loud to comprehend, amplified further by the loud chatter of more students milling about, complaining of the examination's sudden increase in strictness. Teito just sat there, trying to think of a way out of this social awkwardness. He had walked towards Saar because he wanted to know more about the man, find out more from him, possibly simply to socialise. _Mikage, how did you gather the courage to speak to me? Where did you find the incentive to talk to a person no one wanted to associate with?_

_Banish the darkness, Teito._

Those words struck him out of his deep thought, making him jerk upright as the fyulong dragon jumped off his shoulder, hovering above for a moment before landing on his head. Banish the darkness?

_Think of your purpose. Why did you choose to take the path you follow?_ To find the truth: Teito knew the answer, but why the path of a bishop? Even after travelling and receiving the cursed tickets from each house, he still hadn't managed to break the threshold of regaining all his memories. Perhaps there was more to becoming a bishop that the Father had entrusted for him to discover than it merely being a vector for existence. What of purpose did Teito know regarding Saar?

"Why did you choose to become a bishop, Saar?"That question came out rather spontaneously, improvised on his lips. Ouida and Saar both turned to face him, and Razette popped her head further up so that her ears extended past the surface of the water, listening over the constant splash of the fountain.

"You heard it the first night I arrived here, didn't you, Teito-san?" He smiled, but something told Teito that wasn't it. "The whole speech about repenting for the sins I never committed, something like that. I don't remember the exact wording but I believe your memory is sufficient to remember that incident."

"No, what I meant was your true purpose. Why choose the path of a Bishop when you could still travel the world and rid it of Kor and wars without coming to the church? Is it because you believe in God?"

The expression on Saar's face darkened considerably.

"I shall be frank with you, Teito, and Ouida-san, since the both of you went out of your way to even associate yourselves with me." He took a deep breath, choosing the bluntest, yet most eloquent way to put his thoughts together. "God is dead."

It took a while for Ouida to understand. But Teito remembered instantly that this was what Bastien had told him of Frau. _"My god is dead," _he had said. Saar's voice took him back to the explanation at hand.

"I have never felt the touch of the Chief of Heaven in my life. You bishops, apprentices, brothers and sisters live in the church because of your belief of his benevolence, or even in the fact that he is god, or whatever you make him to be." He moved a hand to his chest. "I feel nothing when I read the scriptures, and feel no connection when I sit in prayers, muttering the same things over and over again, like as through it is meant to brainwash us. Even mass seems to be merely a legitimate excuse to communally consume bread and wine on the grounds of the church. They say it helps remind us of the Chief's goodness and the blessings brought down upon us.

"Then why is there so much injustice in this world? Of course, one could always says we have to work hard for it. But does it make sense to work hard for something, yet letting someone else take all the credit? Perhaps yes, if he was the one who provided life at the very beginning, but there is no proof. There are no seven ghosts, no Verloren, no Chief of Heaven. They are merely lies to conceal the reasons behind natural phenomena. The one that the Kor speak of is just a product of their animalistic society.

"One thing I will admit is that the church is the one place that I can find myself free of prejudice to the greatest extent. It was a desperate decision, but if getting the title of a bishop meant superseding my being a warsfeil, then why should I not pursue it? The church is, after all, the highest level of jurisdiction in the kingdom. If they say my sins are forgiven, then they are. If they say I will be reborn for having these abilities, then fine. If it will make up for the people I killed, why not take this path, rather than one littered with thorns and shards of glass? If god wants to prove himself, I say let him."

It sounded all too familiar to Teito: the thoughts of god, the ghosts and even the concept of love. All that had changed with Frau, with Mikage and everyone in the church. Even with his encounters with the black hawks, he could see that the warsfeil held love and loyalty to their utmost extremes for Ayanami and within their ranks. There was nothing to stop Teito from shouting, "You're wrong! The seven ghosts do exist! In fact, the man who has been treating you so well – Castor – is one of them himself!" However Ouida was the one to answer in his patient, gentle voice.

"If a tree falls in a forest without anyone hearing it, does it still fall?"

Teito saw a glint in Saar's eyes as he processed that challenge. He opened his mouth to counter, and his speech was accompanied by the clanging of bells, signalling assembly for the second examination. He shook his head sadly, then stood.

"I'm sorry I don't have the time to discuss that, Ouida-san. You do propose an interesting perspective though." Both apprentices stood simultaneously, walking Saar over to where Lance stood and the small number of students had gathered.

"Do not worry. I believe that as long as you stay in the church, there will always be another time to converse."

"May god be with you, Saar." Teito spoke, finally finding his voice. "We'll be waiting for you at the end of the road."

The examinees climbed the tower, Saar keeping his distance at the back of the group as his baculus jingled with the rings that synchronised his power with the weapon. What would the second examination be? The issues that hey had discussed earlier weighed heavily on his mind. How was it that one could believe in something that did not exist physically, but manifested itself in supposed phenomena that may not even necessarily corroborate the existence of its being? That was where faith would arise, but was it all blind faith? Is the church merely an institution based on false principles just to give false hope to the people?

As he stood in front of the door, his hand sank low, staring at his feet. Even so, the institution was generous. He could not be a liability to those who extended their hand to help him. For Teito, and now Ouida as well, he would pass this damned examination.

"The second examination is the practical examination: you have only one goal, which is to reach the door at the other end. We do not know what you will face here, but may god watch over you as you face your opponents." Lance declared in his all-out supervising voice.

_Enough with god, get this going!_ That was all Saar had heard in his head as the doors creaked open. He immediately smelled the scent of a Kor, stepping onto the bridge in front of him as the entrance behind him slammed shut. His path was surrounded by a cage of bones that felt all too familiar.

_Serve Verloren, or DIE!_

The voice screamed inside his head, trying to tear him apart as he yelled back: "You want service? Eat your words, Kor!"

A string of words charged up around the baculus on its own accord, the bones around him shifting as the room trembled. He could hear the flap of the wings of the Kor in midair as it poised to strike, extending its skeleton to impale its target. Saar struck the staff into the ground, letting out a roar of anger that came from the thoughts that had accumulated from their conversation to the confusion he felt, and the anger that rose with the defiance of the Kor against his will. It was the same white light that had engulfed the training hall that extended from the tip of his baculus, enshrouding the darkness in brightness as Saar could hear the Kor scream in his ears. All he felt was the tap of the skeleton on his shoulder before it dissolved to dust around him, his zaiphon crushing the bones. The voice tore itself into two, sounding like its throat had been mangled by a chainsaw and its tongue rubbed against sandpaper with the shout of the name of its fictional master – fictional at least to Saar.

"He's a monster when he's angry," said Ouida from above, watching as the warsfeil walked calmly across the bridge. All the other Kor had shattered with the light, something that Teito remembered was similar to what Frau had done during his examination, only that his light had wiped out the fears of all others. Was Saar of strong enough a will to prove to be as competent as Frau? "It's odd, how he can channel his anger so efficiently in a baculus when it is meant for kinder emotions of justice.

"What would your fear be like, warsfeil?"


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Many thanks to my good friend Cerulean Azure for beta-ing this chapter for me. I hope it's much better than the previous two chapters. D:

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><p>Chapter 3<p>

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><p><em>They said the haze would clear, but it's not clearing.<em>

Saar squinted through the dust, trying to discern whether the footpath still existed in front of him. Eyes narrowed, a glint of fury still shone. He didn't know what had gotten him so riled up, it was just a Kor with all its usual blasphemy. Right, it was just a larger, stronger and faster Kor, hell-bent on absorbing his soul. But something inside him had snapped the very instant he heard the voice, something that had made him burn with wrath. Coupled with the anger staying like a leaden weight and the sagging of those bracelets, his Baculus suddenly felt heavy in his hand.

"So, you think you fear nothing?"

Saar thought he heard a voice coming from in front of him, continuing to squint his eyes to slits. He barely dodged the darkness rushing towards his face as the fog parted for the dark magic. Falling to the ground, the warsfeil magic screamed past his head and spread across the wall behind, a disease to stone.

"You think you're so powerful being warsfeil and all, when in fact you are nothing but a worthless son born by accident!"

The voice came clearer a second time and Saar's head snapped up at the dark silhouette that approached him slowly. He scrambled to his feet, holding the baculus out in front of him in a defensive stance. Things started creeping into his mind: he could smell the scent of a man, his cologne. It was that horrid scent of musk and wood, mixed together with burnt cigars and ash. His body shivered slightly as his hands grew rigid around the baculus, a certain spiritual coldness engulfing his path as the image became clearer. It was not just one man, but two. The first he had figured out, but when he saw the second one Saar let out a breath at what he saw. His body shivered slightly and hands grew rigid around the tainted staff, a certain spiritual coldness engulfing his path as the image became clearer

There was a boy being dragged by his collar. His blonde hair was scruffy and his face was bruised. His hands were bound by black magic, and even with the katana in his hands he was hopelessly vulnerable. The man who was pulling him along was middle-aged, with similar blonde hair and golden eyes. But those eyes burned a much deeper, darker hatred than Saar had ever seen. It was a dangerous task to be dealing with the man, even as Saar knew who he was.

"How did you get in?" It was a challenge posed by Saar's convincingly confident voice, but the man simply laughed, dropping the boy on the floor and pointing straight at Saar.

"You let me in, simple as that." The first sentence struck Saar as odd. "You think I wouldn't want to kill you? After all, you'll just ruin the name of the family, of MY family," the words hissed out, trying too hard to cut at Saar, to kill his heart. Saar felt nothing, and was starting to doubt if he himself held any emotion at all. Looking at the boy sprawled out on the ground, he knew he had to do something, but this situation was too convenient to be true.

"Go on then, what are you waiting for? You came to offer me some sort of bargain, didn't you?" He continued to hold his Baculus, but relaxed his stance. _I don't want to provoke him into attacking me. Even if it's not real, even it it's an illusion, it would be complicated to deal with the head of the house._

"Smart, as usual." He pointed to the blonde boy. "This is an ultimatum. Either you die, or he dies first, before you do." At that the boy struggled as his restraints grew tighter. The gag on his mouth looked painfully tight. Something in Saar's mind wanted to make him lash out, try anything against this man. It was a no-win situation if he just stood there and watched.

He had no choice but to fight. His zaiphon activated the baculus, red words surrounding the blackened staff as he shook the rings to spread his energy around the room with the piercing, resonating jingle.

"Listen to me," he said. He tried to be serious, acted as serious as he possibly could, but the mocking, condescending face that he was presented with on his opponent made his blood boil. "You battle me. If you lose, you are out of my life forever, and you leave him alone." Saar nodded towards the scruffy boy, hoping that they could at least come at some compromise. He knew it was like asking for the sky to fall. He was right

"Wrong answer."

There was not enough time. A mass of black rose threateningly, tendrils tightening around the captive's wrists – Saar recognized that he would be too slow to save both of them physically. What was not slow though, was his mind: his Zaiphon swooped across the room, encasing the incoming black magic as he ran hard and fast to the boy. His foe had been caught off-guard, but even as Saar picked the boy up he could see the looming shadow stretch out an ominous hand. Quickly whacking the shadow away with his baculus and with a flash of light, he formed a wall of crimson letters with between him and the warsfeil.

Taking the moment of protection it afforded, he looked to the boy, examining the restraints. The only way that he could undo those magical threads was through warsfeil magic.

_But will I fail the examination? Won't the church merely execute me if I use so much as an ounce of this power?_

His mind was snapped out of the thought as he heard the resounding crack of his barrier shattering. Dark magic flowed past the cracks while his baculus glowed with his desperation, the desperation to keep both him and the boy alive. _Please, just protect him and I until the test ends. End this man, end the terror he is holding over us._ His zaiphon extended out again as Saar coughed, feeling a slight strain on his chest as he pushed his thoughts into the weapon. _I don't want to kill. I just want peace. Fuck this shit, why does it have to happen?_

Light and shadow crashed, each seeking to overcome the other. Saar knew his strengths and his weaknesses: he could endure, but he was not fast enough physically. This fight couldn't afford to go into weaponry and fistwork, or he would be at a massive disadvantage. All he could think about now was protecting this boy and his life. He closed his eyes, his vision sensing the energy in his mind as he sharpened the zaiphon to pierce the barrier of darkness, to overwhelm the man. The words slowly morphed from a round, spherical ribbon of words to a coil that shrank, diminishing until it became as sharp as the point of a needle.

_Please, protect me. Protect Konatsu._

In another flash of light the darkness was gone. Saar felt himself stumbling forward as the bright light surged, consuming his enemy in its blinding aura. Saar kept his eyes closed, feeling the flare and the throb of the light as it started to ebb away from its target. He swung his baculus, sending a wave of light that glowed with the white script of zaiphon. His target screamed as the words bit into his flesh, dissolving his skin to leave red, raw scars that bled black with impurity. Encouraged by this sight, Saar sent his baculus swinging, more determined, more steadfast. One, two, three waves of light emanated, each larger and more resolute than the last

Slowly, Saar withdrew his staff. The light trickled away like water off the bridge. In its place was merely a charred floor, the remnants of Saar's wish for protection on the both of them.

"I told you, it's not enough."

Saar felt a surge of pain. The man landed a neat blow to the side of his neck. His legs buckled, feeling his knees hit hard ground, the scene in front of him turning black one moment and screaming white the next. He tried to push himself up, but as he stood his mind became fuzzy, sending him tumbling forward again. He reached out to the blonde-haired boy. He wondered if he begged whether the man would let his hostage go. But the smirk on that face told him otherwise. He saw the same outstretched palm extend towards the boy as he grew frantic, trying to shout with eyes widened too large to be natural.

"Looks like he has to die first."

That gloved palm clenched into a fist as the restraints cut through the boy's wrists, before the gag sliced through his skull. Saar watched the dismembered body lay still: the eyes that were opened wide were staring at him.

Eyes that belonged to Konatsu.

_Why did you not do what you could?_

"You could have saved him. It was only because you were selfish, and because you fear the warsfeil, that you did not use your power." The man stood over the body as blood pooled under Saar's hands, still trying to get to his feet. The crimson liquid spread slowly, mocking him with his reflection as he felt his body being frozen rigid to the ground. "It was because you depend too much on the stupid thing your bishops call a 'holy power' that he died. It was your fault."

_It was… my fault?_ His logic had left him for a moment. Yes, he could have taken the easiest way out, rid Konatsu of his bonds and nullifed the warsfeil. It was because of him that Konatsu was killed. It was because of him that Konatsu's head was lying motionless on the ground, in the eternal scream that would never come out. Saar could feel hot tears sliding down his cheeks as he tried to cough up a reply, but his throat was dry, his breaths too fast to speak a word a time.

_It's not your fault, stupid._

But he felt his thoughts flowing back. Swallowing, Saar looked up, determined to be stubborn. "No, all the killing was done by you. You are the selfish bastard, willing to kill your own son just for YOUR pride. The one who is selfish is YOU, you stupid head of the Warren house! Your pride has corrupted you to the core that your humanity is in shreds!"

"Konatsu died, because you didn't use the power that you had!" The man's voice became a roar, Saar feeling his eardrums ring. "The power that was meant for HIM! You're the failure, and you must die!"

Saar now stood over the body even as dark energy started to fill the chamber. He looked at the head again, ignoring the bone and the flesh that had been cut too cleanly, the expression that was in the middle the plea for mercy. Suddenly his body started shivering again, the cold growing tenfold as it struck him: this was Konatsu, dying because he was too selfish to use the powers of a warsfeil, too selfish because he wanted to atone for himself and himself only. He could feel all semblance of rational thought slip from his grasp for a second time, this time leaving quicker than before. _Why hadn't the Bishops interfered? What is this stupidity that the Master Warren could enter the church with Konatsu? What is this?_

_Is this all… a lie?_

It was through stubborn logic and the hope of possibility that Saar continued to stand, to deny the death of his friend, to ignore the seemingly empirical truth that lay at his feet. The statements rushed through his brain, clicking themselves into place like pieces of a puzzle: warsfeil in the test; no interference of bishops; the death of Konatsu. How horribly convenient could it be? The more he thought about it the more he refused to believe that Konatsu had truly died, even as he stared at the half of the head that was laid at his feet, the realness of those terrified eyes spooking his soul to its very depths.

"You're not him…" it started out as a whisper, but Saar lifted his head to look at the man who drew the power of warsfeil up and over his head. "You're not from the Warren family. You're just an illusion, a pathetic excuse for dredging up old flames. And you are getting in MY WAY!" He drew the baculus in a grand sweep as the warsfeil descended on him, his zaiphon coming out quick enough to form a shield. "If you were real, then you'd know your warsfeil cannot kill me. I will merely absorb it… you merely exploited my vulnerable state of mind to continuously make me dodge and protect this… Konatsu-like thing.

"Who are you, really?"

The man snickered. It turned into a laugh, a laugh that turned maniacal. His shadow suddenly grew larger, then shrunk back smaller. Saar was captivated by the wavering of the spirit, how it laughed and how the entire physicality of it dissolved. But as it morphed, the voice spoke, scratchy at first, then melding into a very familiar, very terrifying voice that rang in his ears.

"Who am I, really?"

He saw a new face emerge from the darkness, a face that was bronzed over with weather-beaten skin. Eyes that had been the same as that of the mad Master, like it had captured the very rays of the sun. Hair of ebony, flowing with an intangible wind like silken threads. A grin that was arrogant, playful…

"I don't even know," it continued to say, sitting down and picking at its fingernails. Saar just stood there, hand on his baculus, observing the doppelganger. The blood that had once pooled at his feet was sucked into the floor, disappearing in drips as Saar heard it splash in the water below. He turned around to look at the body, only to realise that it too had dissolved into nothing. "You're the one who should be telling me. You're the one who's full of paradoxes, who wants to go by logic but ends up choosing your gut over the facts. You're the one who was born a creature of the darkness but insists on the light, even when you can help people. You're the one who loves your mother and still puts her at risk by running away.

"What are you, really?"

A streak of warsfeil magic slammed into the barrier set quietly by Saar. The red words glowed again, but he did not retaliate. That question that the doppelganger asked resonated quietly within him.

_The door. If I can just make it out the door…_

He pushed his legs off the ground sluggishly, but as he ran the doppelganger smiled a small, sad smile.

"You know you are slow, yet think you are fast enough to get by yourself?"

The wave of magic roared above his head, consuming him like a tidal wave. Saar felt the ground being swept off beneath him as he cut through the darkness, feeling pins and daggers slashing at his face.

_How clichéd can this be? Fighting with myself?_

Jumping into the air, he fired three rounds of zaiphon. Each pierced the warsfeil easily enough, but it never drew blood quick enough as his body continued to seal everything that was thrown at him.

"I can't die. Because I am you."

Saar landed behind the doppelganger, closer to his goal. He looked behind to see yet another wave of terror scream towards him. He could hear the ghouls possessing the magic cry out for his soul. He felt his heart pump faster, the door approaching him. _It's that easy to pass the examination,n just by running away?_ Saar gritted his teeth. So was this how he was going to overcome fear? He turned around, lashing his baculus out as the ghouls dissipated into mist, revealing his doppelganger behind the wall of opaque black.

"Oho, change of heart, I see." This time, Saar let the staff clatter to the ground, rings bouncing their muted metallic tune. He approached the figure, footsteps unsure, one leg screaming for his freedom, the other valiantly demanding confrontation. "Why do you even run from something you know cannot hurt you?"

Saar felt his fist lash out, but the Saar opposite him stepped back, catching his hand as it clenched, knuckles turning white in anger at his own incompetence.

"You bloody well know the answer! If you're me, why are you asking all these questions?"

"Oh, but do I know?" The man replied, pushing the fist back at Saar, making him stumble back a few steps. "I want to hear the reason myself, with my own ears."

Saar stood there, looking at the warsfeil creeping impatiently from the shadows behind the doppelganger, snapping at him impatiently. The sickly, dark purple mass taunted him, dared him to say it out loud. _Just say it out loud, stupid. No one is watching. No one is here other than you yourself._ But what was this mental block that prevented him from admitting it?

_If a tree falls without anyone hearing it, does it still fall?_

"I…" he stammered. The doppelganger gave him a nod, encouraging him to spill the words from his mouth, withdrawing slightly further back to give him some space to speak. "I am afraid… of the unknown, of things that I cannot plan. But yet my heart desires for me to embrace the possibilities of life." He paused, feeling sweat trickle down his brow, wiping it with his sleeve.

"I fear who I am, because I don't know who I am."

"Hmm…" the sarcastic clapping that came from the false Saar made him clench his jaw in frustration. So all that declaration was for show? "Right, right. Now go through that door, although I daresay you haven't quite dealt with me yet." Saar blinked at found his chin in the grasp of his doppelganger's hand, fingers cupping gently around the jaw. He felt his Baculus being shoved back into his hand as he took it willingly. It was his only insurance in this horribly vulnerable position, staring down his own raven eyes to see nothing. "Just remember, you will never be rid of me, and the only way to lose all fear – fear for Konatsu, fear of yourself…"

The shadow said it almost reluctantly, letting out an unlikely sigh.

"The only way is for you to die."

He released Saar, watching as the boy ran towards the door, feeling the burning gaze of the shadow behind him that bored through his back. Saar flung the doors open and ran into the light, slowing his pace as he heard chatter come to silence.

"Congratulations, Saar."

"Bishop Castor?" There was no mistaking the voice. Saar's ears knew the tune that rang. Suddenly he felt stupid at his trial. He felt unworthy, horrible, cheated. A grasping pain took a hold of his chest as he continued to look down, not wanting to meet the Bishop's face as he approached slowly. Saar felt an overwhelming sense of shame rise as heat blushed his cheeks. It was ridiculous, fighting with himself, being afraid of saying things to himself. What sorcery was this, that he was so afraid to speak his mind of the truth regarding his feelings when he himself was the one who always spoke his mind?

"Saar, you have to stop with your self-pity."

He wanted to sweep away that hand that was always landing on his shoulder, the hand which was meant to provide affirmation of the choices he had to make. But Saar could only bring his hand to touch Castor's own as he heaved a sigh.

"Yeah, I know."

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><p>"It's a shame. Only one successful candidate?" Lance sighed as he signed the release forms for Saar's admittance as an apprentice. "And his second examination was so easy too, though I'd admit that it would be hard not to use warsfeil magic if he was one."<p>

"But more importantly, it is odd." Castor stood opposite the chief examiner. "Is he so stubborn in his beliefs that he would not save a life?"

"Oi, Castor," Frau grumbled. "Shouldn't you be worrying about how he knows that guy from the black hawks in the first place?" Frau was right: how does Saar know Konatsu? "If I remember correctly, the guy said something about the power that was meant for that black hawk guy? What's that supposed to mean?"

"I suppose it's only a reflection of Saar's thoughts," Labrador contemplated. "Perhaps he felt that Konatsu was the one meant to receive such power, not him. But on what terms do the both of them stand at with each other?"

"There are too many questions," Lance clapped his book shut in the palm of his hand. "And there are no answers. And unless the archbishop commands me, there is no way that I will be obliged to pry those questions apart for you."

"Perhaps we won't have to go so far," Castor stood, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "Now that he is under my care we can release him from the light dungeon. He will be residing in my chambers. I just hope he doesn't bring up trouble with that warsfeil magic hidden deep within him."

"He needs to stop doubting himself. He'll become stupid like that, with no confidence and all," Frau's words were punctuated with bursts of smoke that stained the otherwise clear air. "He's got a body full of potential, huge and strong, but his spirit is like a small child running from difficulty, running from life, like a real idiot despite having that smart brain."

"That's not the only problem," Castor whacked Frau on the head with a book. "He thinks the confidence he puts on as a façade is enough to get him through life when his soul is slowly crumbling inside of him."

"You need to tie those pieces together, Castor." The urgency in which Labrador's voice carried those words made the other three bishops turn their heads. "You need to keep his soul intact. Only then can his doom bring about salvation."

Only the quiet whisper of the wind spoke as the four remained silent, pondering on the divinations of Labrador. Where had that last statement come from? They had been doing well, talking about Saar and all, when suddenly the god of divinity and the future said something about doom being salvation?

Flowers spread their petals in the air, singing to Labrador.

"He possesses something, a power that has been hidden from us. The flowers can only sense it within him, but they can't tell it. But they tremble," his lips quivered as he spoke. "They say it's the creation of the Chief of Heaven, something that can destroy all, even the seven ghosts and even the soul of Verloren."

"How is that possible?" Frau spat in anger, rubbing the angry welt that Castor had given to him. "Aren't the Chief of Heaven and the seven ghosts the only things capable of capturing Verloren? And even so, destroying him is totally out of our league. What he hell does he have?"

"I don't know," Labrador left it as that, releasing the petals to the draft that swept them into the air. "But Castor, be careful. He may not taint you, but this power might destroy you."

"Point taken."

"Right, right," Lance flapped his hands, prancing around the room. "Can we stop all this serious talk? The exam just ended and I'm totally busted. My hair is limp from all the talk of warsfeil and destruction and whatnot, we need to CHILL." Stretching and passing his clipboard to an examiner in the room, Lance danced out into the hallway, singing off-key. Frau cringed as the voice disappeared down the hallway, his face somewhere in between terror and disgust as far as Castor could tell. The other three walked out of the room slowly, quietly. Castor's mind was abuzz with the information that Labrador had provided, and it amplified to something even louder as he watched Saar sit by the fountain, sharing a moment of discussion with Ouida and Teito.

"I guess that brat's grown up these years, huh?" Frau's voice made Castor come out of his thoughts. "Wonder if he'll be ready for his bishop coronation."

Castor took a good hard look at Teito. The small, angry boy they had taken in two years ago had mellowed somewhat. He was a capable fighter, eliminating the Kor with a passion and fervour against Verloren and his lies. But the boy still could not hold a card against the warsfeil. The most that Frau reported him doing was a repulsion of attack of wars by his zaiphon, but perhaps it had something to do with his soul, the filth that it had accumulated, the trauma and the blood on his hands.

"How is Ouida, Labrador?"

"Ah, like Teito, he can't hold his own against wars," Labrador smiled slightly. "But I'm sure with more on-the-job training they can both overcome the darkness as bishops."

"We'll have to think of something to help the three of them, and Hakuren too," Castor muttered, watching as Razette emerged from the fountain. He had noticed the noel mermaid sing more often that usual, and when he had asked her about it she replied him.

_The boy in the light dungeon, he sings with a voice only god could have given._

"Maybe he should join the choir."

"Eh?" Frau turned his head at Castor. "What was that? A choir boy? But he's a bit old for the whole pure angelic thing, no?"

"Razette says he sings well," Castor replied. "Perhaps we could be an audience if he sings later, that is if he's not too shy."

Frau stared at Castor doubtfully, but said nothing as they continued to observe their three apprentices sitting at the fountain. There would be a ceremony acknowledging the second anniversary of Bastien's death later in the evening, and scheduling for Holy period celebrations and services. He was somewhat relieved that Hakuren had been granted leave to return to the church. Change had been creeping in slowly through the Barsburg royal family. There have been tales of sickly peasants being healed, of a ghost who travels the streets by night and blesses the people. It sounded too much like what Frau had done, but as he thought about it, _change really is the only thing that doesn't change._

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><p>Saar stood at the gravestone dressed in his mourning robes, the plate that spoke of him as an apprentice weighing heavily from his bracelets as an extension. He struggled to hold back the spirit that threatened to leach through his fingertips into the flowers he was holding: Labrador had allowed him to gather any that they wanted. Teito and Ouida had stuck with traditional chrysanthemums, but Saar had taken a bouquet of lilies. "Why lilies?" Labrador had asked.<p>

_Because I want to believe that his soul was reborn, pure and innocent._ That was what he had wanted to say. Instead he had merely stammered like an idiot, saying something like, "Oh, because lilies smell nice." What a douche and pathetic excuse of an apprentice he was. Saar wanted to smack himself for that answer. He hadn't even addressed Labrador formally when giving that reply, but the diminutive bishop had merely smiled and nodded his head, as if he knew the true intentions of Saar.

But even as he stood there and pondered, all he could think of was what that doppelganger had said.

The only way to rid himself of fear was to die.

But how was it impossible for him that it was possible for the other bishops and apprentices to overcome their fears? Did they necessarily vanquish them once and for all, or did they accept them? What happens to normal people whose true, pure hearts of faith enter that second examination and pass? He stood dumbly in front of the grave, sticking the baculus into the ground in front of him. His hands grasped the lilies and he felt the wetness of crushed stems, cursing himself for being so stupid as he lay them down on the stone.

_Castor said you were one who struggled between the light and the darkness,_ he thought in his mind. Saar made his mind's voice sound as large as possible, even though it was only a garbled mix of abstract, colourful word-like sounds that resonated within the confines of his head. He did it like as though he was trying to send a message to Bastien's soul, present in the small tree that was growing in the garden. _But in the end you chose darkness to protect something. I hope to learn something of humanity from you, even if it means stripping me of something that I'm meant to be, even if stripping me of myself. It sounds so easy saying it, but I hope you'll help me let go… of myself._

Saar turned his head, stretching his neck and realising that the graveyard was empty save for him. Apparently everyone had been done paying their respects. As he stood there, he bowed his head, letting his mind and spirit flow freely like the gypsies as he tried to express what he felt into song. He just wished he wasn't so naked, wasn't so bare in his music, and wished for the piano and violin back, for anything, for the feel of a guitar or a folk harp. But as he sang he let those thoughts go to rest, his voice splitting into two, then four, and eight. It multiplied until it sounded like the voice of a choir singing a simple song of mourning. The tune was strangely eerie, not rigid like the hymns of traditional church, not melodic in the sense of the entertainers of the first district. This was a melody that was from the old Raggs kingdom in the foreign language that the gypsies that taught him. The words shaped around his mouth like snowdrops in the grass, falling delicately onto the stone as each syllable formed at the tip of his tongue. The birds seemed to quieten as he sang:

_**Farewell  
>'Twas the twilight of the soul when you spoke<br>And all seemed well  
>But now the break of dawn arises<br>For the new spirit  
>Welcome<strong>_

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><p>Castor stood some distance away together with Frau, Labrador, Teito and Ouida. The four of them had hidden out of Saar's line of sight, but could see and hear everything that was going on. Teito in particular was interested in hearing Saar sing. Labrador had predicted it to happen during Bastien's second anniversary, but Saar being the shy person he was probably wouldn't sing in front of any audience at all, so they had backed off. Frau had grumbled at the big deal being made of the warsfeil, saying ever since he came nothing good has happened.<p>

_That's true, but nothing bad happened either,_ Teito thought to himself.

Suddenly Castor hushed them. It was there, a voice soft and carried by the wind, but loud enough for him to pick it up with his ears. Teito leaned forward, closer uphill toward the source of the voice that could only possibly come from Saar. There was no one else there, and none of them could sing to save their lives. He watched as Castor closed his eyes to listen, and Teito decided to do the same.

Inside his head it was pitch black, but the sound of the pure, untainted vocal pierced through his mind. Each word was crystal clear, and Teito found himself transported to a land of nothingness. It was cold like snow and hot like a desert, both burning at his skin. But it wasn't a violent, piercing storm. There was an odd calmness to the space as the sky within his mind turned grey with the lilt of his voice and the turn in the pitch. There was a breath and something grew within that inner mind theatre, something that was small, yet so sacred. It was the soul of Bastien-sama, come to take the form of a plant.

Teito found his ears ringing with the climax of the song when he snapped his eyes open. Those lyrics were too familiar not to be recognisable. There was the quintessential gliding of the tongue, the click of teeth and pursing of lips with each and every word and vowel that came out. But it also sounded odd. It sounded of a voice that was afraid, tired, exhausted. It was unmistakeably the language of the former Raggs Empire, which melded every emotion in its pronunciations. One could tell sadness from happiness not through mere inflections, but also the sharpness of the constantans and the purity of the vowel. His speech was murky, sad with the mourning song.

_But now the break of dawn… arises…_ Teito translated the language with ease in his head as it flowed through his mind, traversing the crevices of his memories, stirring something deep within him. No memories leapt out at him, but surely this feeling was something independent that the Father had wanted him to learn on his own, to experience independently. Or perhaps he was just too young to understand at that time, and at the coming of this age Teito could feel all the cumulative sadness and sorrow within him melt with the mere touch of words. The recollection of the meaning seemed to enter in chunks, one glob at a time, before he realised he had truly heard this song before.

_**Farewell**__: Farewell from the physical realm, from your body which returns to the earth.  
><em>_**'Twas the twilight of the soul when you spoke**__: your death was imminent but no human would know when the time was right  
><em>_**And all seemed well**__: the physical can never explain the spiritual  
><em>_**But now the break of dawn arises For the new spirit**__: reincarnation or the return to Heaven, dependent on the fulfilment of the three wishes and the happiness of the Chief.  
><em>_**Welcome**__: Welcome to your new life_


	5. Chapter 4

__A/N: Thank you Cerulean Azure for the beta, and so quick too! Please R&R, and I will give you all my love.

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

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><p><em>The first day is always the hardest.<em>

It was what Saar remembered from a book. If it were true, Saar certainly did not feel it. His routine had been planned out and ingrained in his self for quite some time: waking bells at four in the morning, prayers and maintenance. There had only been slight differences in the schedule he had long since grown accustomed to. Instead of having the luxury of deciding where and when to train and to study, he was to follow Vice-archbishop Castor around the church in his duties, assisting the man wherever he could.

Saar realised it felt considerably better than the constant, irregular rousing of the gypsies when they tried to escape the district patrols. His current situations granted him the ability to lay a framework for the order of the day; earlier he had spotted Teito running to Frau's chambers to wake the sleeping bishop, and had heard the panicked yells that echoed down the corridor as they were almost late.

He secretly thanked the creator that Castor was his mentor: someone dependable, understanding and structured in thinking.

When Saar had asked about carrying caustic lime up the stairs like how Teito and Frau did every morning, Castor had merely laughed. It was a mysterious laugh that spoke not of good tidings, but Saar had taken it in stride anyhow.

"Our duties are not entirely of burden like theirs," Castor said nonchalantly. Suddenly the floors had turned colder as Saar tried to anticipate his mentor's words. "Our duty for the morning is the capture the Kor."

He froze in place with irrational fear, before his mind shook him to his bones, willing his legs to walk on with stiff mechanical strides.

"Since it's your first time on the job, I'd like to see how your zaiphon-manipulation skills work. Use only your manipulation-type zaiphon for today – you didn't do much fighting during the test with that specific type of zaiphon, and I'd like to see how your technique could be improved."

Of course, it was so much like Castor to get to know him better. Saar watched the body settle itself slowly on the altar. He watched as Castor opened a small burner, seeing pale lavender fumes escape from the grate. "Step back, you wouldn't want to be anaesthetised as well," Castor's voice warned him. He had to take in only a whiff of the pleasantly-sweet smell to feel his head turn groggy, his feet go out beneath him as he sat on the floor, embarrassed. He heard his mentor chuckle and say nothing.

Extracting Kor was second nature to Saar now. There had been countless times where he watched Castor teach bishops how to extract the winged creatures from the soul, and he had always seen himself in place of the vice-archbishop, lowering his hands slowly over the deep, dark mark that spoke of the Kor's possession over its victim's soul. As Saar drew near, he could hear the voice speaking to him.

"_Leave me alone! This body is mine, and you have no right!"_

"It is my every right," he growled back almost instinctively, as the Kor shrunk into a protective ball, unsure of its own fate. He pulled energy from the air, solidifying them into a pair of hands as they glowed red with his resolve. Saar could see it now: the bony wings that encircled the man's heart, jealously guarding it but being powerless to do anything else. Like a master surgeon he flexed the hands of zaiphon around each joint of bone, tightening its grip until he felt the resistance of the creature. The interlacing of red formed a hard web of energy. Castor observed quietly, taking note of the skilfulness of Saar's delicate work, also the unique form which he chose to manipulate the zaiphon in.

Saar heard the resounding thud of the cage as he flung the Kor out of the man's body and right into its prison. The pair of bony wings tipped the metallic trap in defiance of its captivity. Saar muttered something of a primitive sound, kicking the cage before picking it back up, lacing the interior with a web of hardened zaiphon to keep the damned creature still.

"Well," Castor said, sounding somewhat amused. "That's that." Saar looked at Castor almost sadly. He wished that these people had not been in a position to even consider the Kors' offer of fulfilling their wishes. How could it be in the district even with the church's intervention and constant education? The magnitude of the problem would strike him as he heard Castor call out in a sterile tone, "bring in the next patient, please!"

They worked slowly, two at a time, with the vice-archbishop taking one and Saar taking the other. With each patient, Saar grew more questioning. They came from all walks: a young man with a farmer-tanned body; an elderly lady whose face was wrinkled like the folds in a prune; a toddler no taller than Saar's knee who had cried as his mother set him in front of the warsfeil. She hadn't known, of course, but children were spiritually sensitive beings, and even with Saar instinctively reigning in his taint, the poor child had no problems sensing the darkness the dwelled in his heart. That, at least, was how Saar saw it.

Somewhere deep down beneath, he wished children wouldn't have to scream when he approached as they saw the invisible claws of black reach for their pure, innocent souls. He cursed the being that made him who he was. Perhaps he was a mistake, and the persona of a normal person had been mixed with the body of a warsfeil in some manner of sick joke.

With each patient the Kor grew bolder as they sensed his mental fortitude breaking.

"_What, a servant of Verloren saving the children from the Kor? Why not make them all wars? Serve your true master, serve him with what you were meant to be!"_ After a while he swore he saw those words emerge from the mouths of the people he was meant to treat, but he couldn't be sure. He wanted to be free from those judgemental, prying eyes that threatened to tear him at the seams.

The next man who came in had two holds on his heart. _Two wishes,_ Saar could hear himself say before he sighed. The Kor that came with it had heard his thoughts.

"_Make him the wars he was meant to be! Fulfil your purpose, warsfeil!" _The Kor called out to him, and with a yell that spoke half of determination and another half of annoyance, Saar snapped his gentle, caressing fingers of Zaiphon taut, ripping the skeletal wings out of their host in a chokehold as the seal of black dissolved into ashes. Castor turned when he heard that yell, but he stumbled backwards, slightly taken aback, when he heard the venom that dripped from Saar's voice.

"You of lowly Kor, do not speak of my purpose. It is for me and me alone to decide."

Saar threw the pair of skeletal wings into its cage, slamming the door shut as the cage flew across the ground from the force of Saar's anger. Saar was panting, infuriated with the words of the Kor. How dare such a lowly being speak to him like that. How dare that creature invade the souls of humans, taking advantage of their want to be with the creator! How dare Verloren create those creatures! How dare…

"Don't let it provoke you, Saar," Castor spoke quietly, the voice of reason amidst the screams of frustration echoing in his head. He watched as Castor helped his patient up, then Saar's. The apprentice felt almost shamed at his irrational anger towards the pathetic creatures as he glanced upward at Castor guiltily.

"You were doing so well. Ignore their taunts: they aren't informed enough for their responses to be justified. They believe blindly in Verloren's agenda because it's all they know. They don't know a thing about you."

"But do you?" Saar said almost too gently, almost as if he were intentionally hinting that it was Castor's fault he was being tortured by the Kor. If Castor had reason to feel offended, he never showed it, only looking quizzically at his apprentice. "I appreciate everything the church has done for me, and how you have personally accommodated me, Bishop Castor. But I doubt you know the first thing about what I truly feel." Saar immediately regretted those words, flinching at the realisation of how unfairly they described his mentor, and so he hung his head in shame, but did not admit his wrongdoing.

Castor maintained the silence, pulling the curtain separating the exorcism chamber from the main church hall to check if any more patients were waiting. Those two had been the last of the queue, and as Castor drew the gossamer veil back Saar caught his eyes. Those brown eyes were searching his own golden pair. Saar wondered if Castor could read the despondence he felt in his soul, his mind dulled to pessimism.

"Why don't you tell me how you truly feel?"

Saar didn't know how to respond. He waited for himself to say something, anything, but all he could summon was quiet. The chamber resonated with the prayerful chants of worshippers just outside, but other than that, the clear voice that belonged to Saar never came through the veil of echoes. His mouth could not move.

Suddenly the marble floors felt cold, even beneath his warm-soled shoes. He could feel the concrete wall harden behind his back. Saar could feel Castor's still questing glance amplifying the silence tenfold. His tongue tripped, and he seized on it before his brain could protest.

"The church tells us that the Chief of Heaven is responsible for everything, that it is thanks to his benevolence that we exist as we are and have not been overcome entirely by the temptations of Verloren." It began as a soft mutter, but even so the voices resonating had suddenly dimmed in contrast as he made sure Castor's ears caught his words. "The path to becoming a bishop is supposed to be a path that begins with a firm affirmation of faith in the creator.

"But to me, it is a well-established lie, to put it frankly." He started to doubt the tactfulness of his entire statement, but he threw all caution to the wind. "The church is just a system to aid each other, trying to provide a science of explanation behind phenomena humans cannot understand, phenomena they cannot hope to explain.

"How can I become a bishop, let alone an apprentice, if I have no faith in the system that I will eventually come to work for?"

When Saar looked up to breathe, he could see Castor give a small, sad smile. It wasn't one that expressed a condescending view, but was one that spoke of sympathy, one that said "I know what you mean". Saar couldn't stop feeling stupid. There he was, a stupid brat aged twenty suns, and he was bitching off to his mentor like a child in the cold. He could feel the warm, reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"You're not the only one who had wondered about this," Castor started, carefully choosing his words. "Frau, Teito and many of the bishops who do not battle the forces of Verloren have had the same thoughts. I had once wondered the use of the writ, even: was it fiction, a bunch of lies meant to make us feel better?"

"Is that supposed to be some sort of consolation?" Saar's voice had been reduced to a crack of a whisper as he struggled not to sound rude, as awkward as it was addressing the topic with his mentor of all people. He could hear Castor sighing, and Saar feared he had disappointed the man, before feeling the gloved hand rubbing his sable hair fondly.

"That's what the path is meant for. It's a path, not a stationary camp. You're meant to discover things along the way," the Bishop said as he pulled the curtain aside, exposing a man standing awkwardly outside. His clothes were not filthy, but they were nowhere near pristine either, showing the effects of frequent darning and patching. Saar watched as the stranger straightened his back, retaining some of his dignity.

"Life is one long path, with many forks that shape your beliefs. You have been sprinting, dashing across your path, covering thrice the distance others would accomplish in double the time. Now that you have the space, perhaps you have to slow down, meditate upon your actions, just like how this man came to realise how making dealings with a Kor was a mistake, am I right?" Saar saw Castor break into a gentle smile towards the man. "Come, come. I expect you wanted to knock, except that there was nothing to knock on?"

"Yes, vice-archbishop Castor," the man shuffled to the marble altar, not having noticed Saar who stood in the corner, brooding over his thoughts. Did it matter that this path was then merely a means to an end? Was it merely one way of seeing the church, and that his viewpoint was nothing but a narrow perspective shaped by his beliefs? Perhaps they judged faithfulness by the bishop examination, which he had passed in some measure, whether by a scrape off from passing or with flying colours he did not know.

Did anything matter for any purpose?

Saar ambled to the side of the altar, expecting to continue his work.

"Just forget everything, Saar," Castor said, sending the man into a trance with incense as his eyes lulled to the back of his head. "Even if you doubt the creator, if you doubt the entire system of the church, look at it from the barest of facts. You are safe now. You have an opportunity to help others. Nothing else matters."

When Castor spoke it like that, it seemed so easy to believe him, so convincing. Saar wished he had that ability with people, to direct their thoughts with mere words. Castor was right: the bare facts were facts. He wanted to help people, and the church had allowed him to do so. Nothing else mattered, did it?

_What about my soul?_

Almost at once he felt unsettled about that aspect, how it all fit in. Looking at cold, hard facts, did it matter that his soul was in a state he never wished for?

"Forget it, Saar," Castor said. "Do what you came here to do. Just think of it as something you know you'd do better than carrying lime up seventy floors of the church."

He could not help but chuckle. Perhaps he would ask Teito about it later during lunch, if he dared speak during the meal. His mind wandered to other things: what Ouida did with Labrador in the mornings, how Frau ever became a bishop, whether everything in reality was a story or not. He pushed those thoughts aside as they jostled for his attention. He shaped his zaiphon into more menacing claws, feeling the Kor shrink back in fear as he plunged an immaterial hand into the cursed seal. Darkness threatened to leak out of his fingertips, but Saar squashed the impurity back into his body, grabbing onto the Kor as it squealed like a disobedient child.

With a flick of his wrist, Saar pulled the Kor free. The seal of darkness dissolved from the man's skin, black fumes evaporating and following to where the Kor was imprisoned. Saar let out a sigh of relief, his burden temporarily lifted as he revelled in his work.

Little did he know, he set the cogs a ticking in Castor's head, calculating how to convince the man that it was not all some hopeless ploy, that the stories of the seven ghosts and the chief of heaven were not exaggerated without blowing the cover of the ghosts.

It was hopeless.

* * *

><p>Castor watched as Saar wandered out of the chamber, unaccompanied. He felt he could trust the warsfeil enough – there was no malice in this man, only confusion and a desperate need for identity. Yet, identity wasn't something that Castor could give to this man.<p>

One other, more prominent problem stood out in his head. _His attacks always go too wide for comfort,_ Castor mused, mentally flipping through his connections with his sister dolls. _He always relies on strength and that slows him down considerably. Someone needs to teach him speed and accuracy._ He didn't trust Frau to be responsible enough to train his apprentice for him, giving a sigh in anticipation of the mountains of work that would be waiting for him at his desk. Sometimes he questioned accepting the position of vice-archbishop, even though he never had a problem with the work.

His mind was a whirr of strategies, training programs. He could put Saar on the training regimen that he had first put Teito on to control his zaiphon. _But he has masterful control of his zaiphon. It's more of a problem of his physical and mental capacities._ One of the sister puppets spoke to him, indicating that she had found what he wanted. _Perhaps I can ask him._ He walked calmly, anticipating each footfall and softening his footsteps along the quiet corridors. Worshippers and young priests-in-training greeted him enthusiastically.

_Is it so hard to see the good in people?_ Castor wondered. He was forced to recall his past life, where he would forgo the criticisms of others, yet seeing praises as nothing but words. _How do you change the mindset of one who doubts everything?_

There he was. "Teito!" Castor's voice made the young boy turn around from where he observed worshippers praying to one of the ghost statues… his own.

"Ah, vice-archbishop Castor?"

"No need for formalities," Castor chortled. He watched the young man tilt his head, interested to know the source of his humour, but Castor had replaced his laughter with a rather benevolent smile. "Are you busy?"

"Not at all, Castor-san." So he wouldn't let go of hierarchy. But that was Teito: he was respectful to those who respected him. "Is there something you need me to do?"

Castor was tempted to say "Well, indeed. How about whisking Saar away, training him like they did to you as a battle slave? That way he can be as fast and as kickass as I need him be." But he just let his eyes run down the length of Teito's body, appraising him like a merchant examining his wares. The former battle slave had grown in the past two years: he had added some bulk to his bones, and was much meatier than when they had travelled. Teito had become as much due to Frau's insistence, but if his daily duties of burden hadn't helped him build muscle, Castor didn't know what would.

"You're growing into a fine young man," Castor exclaimed rather pointedly, before continuing, "and your bishop coronation is happening in a few weeks' time. You do know about it, right?"

"Yes, though Frau said if I cannot lay a single dent on the wars, then he might not allow me to enlist this year. I need to learn and train, though I honestly don't know how."

"You'll get it soon enough," Castor said as if he were entirely sure of Teito, still smiling reassuringly. He took a deep breath: might as well ask the question. If he considered it forever he would never be able to decide upon it. "But one thing I must ask of you: because of your training you are fast, accurate and powerful a fighter. I was hoping that you could help Saar attain the standard that you have."

Castor saw it immediately: Teito had spaced out at his request. He could almost hear Teito's thoughts out loud as he had anticipated. _Me? Train a fellow bishop apprentice?_ As he shook his head to clear up his thoughts the sound of a cough escaped his throat. "That wouldn't be a problem, Castor-san, except that I have no idea how to train him." It was honest, and it was the truth. His training as a battle slave had been carried onto his studies at the military academy, and he had probably taken many years to become as fast as he was now. How was he supposed to teach something he never knew he had been taught anyway?

"Right, right," Castor said. "I was thinking more of a demo… allowing him to observe how you fight. The man is sharp. He can learn things from observation and anecdotes. And he will try and try again until he gets it." He heard Teito breath out a sigh and couldn't help but laugh. "I'll arrange it with Frau that you'll have some time to show Saar, and maybe I'll even call the man in to help." I wasn't much of a query, but Castor hoped that Teito wouldn't be too uncomfortable teaching a warsfeil how to fight.

It wasn't just that. Saar was huge, strong and bulky. Teito was thin and lithe: how would someone like Saar move with speed and agility? Frau could do that easily, but that was because he was a ghost. Castor found himself appreciative of Teito's willingness to help. He was one of the few in the church who had not discriminated against Saar just because he was a threat to mortals. That he had made clear in a discussion between Frau and Teito that Frau had told Castor about.

But as they stood there awkwardly, listening to the prayers and more-than-occasional pleas from girls, one figure stood out of the shifting sea of worshippers. Castor recognised him almost instantly, but it took Teito awhile to figure out the black-haired man that stood in front of the statue of Fest.

"Is that…?" Teito's question was cut off as Castor placed a hand on his shoulder. Saar was standing in front of the statue,; unmoving, looking down at the ground, then back up at the statue, wringing his hands. The hall was almost deserted as the bells rang for lunch.

"I feel stupid for doing this," he heard Saar mutter above the din of the bells. His statue was connected to him, and he could tune into the prayers of people whenever he wanted. Perhaps he felt a small niggle of guilt at eavesdropping, but Saar was his apprentice. If he was desperate enough to pray to a ghost statue, then it might be worth listening to.

"So I heard you're the ghost that binds souls together." The informal tone resonated with his lack of belief. "If you're real, you'd probably know that there are a few people who matter to me: my mum, grandpa and… Konatsu." Castor took in a breath he didn't know he had been holding. How was Saar connected to the Black Hawks soldier?

"I just want to let you know, I'm probably not worth listening to, but for all it's worth…" he paused, hesitating, but there was no one else to hear him, or so he thought. "Please take care of them. Help mum be strong even though that man treats her like dirt. Help grandpa stay vigilant and keep his health in check. Help Konatsu, even as he's in the military." Kneeling down before the statue, Saar bowed his head.

"I want to learn to trust the people around me. Castor, Teito, Ouida… they are all good people. Maybe you could do something to bind our souls together, I don't know. Help me understand their kindness, where they get their motivation to live through the day from without relying on bitterness and revenge." The silence that followed was pregnant with words, but Saar held them in, unsure of what to say. He stood, but didn't leave the statue.

"Maybe, let me find love too."

Castor watched as Saar walked away as he pushed his glasses further up his face. Perhaps he had been wrong to erase Saar's memory, his knowledge about the seven ghosts and Verloren that he held as a warsfeil. He could still remember the day when Saar had arrived: Frau unleashed his scythe, threatening to tear Saar from limb to limb, and Saar had immediately recognised Frau for who he really was: Zehel. Now, he doubted the legitimacy of the myths, and even doubted the legitimacy of the Kor's actions.

He was confused, because the entirety of his memory had been assembled over his entire life, before being pulled apart. And for the first time in a very long time, Castor was unsure if he had done the right thing.

* * *

><p><em>Stay away from Saar.<em>

Teito could hear Frau's voice echoing in his head. In fact, he had never really let go of that phrase. Now that Saar was an apprentice, would it be fine for Frau to see Teito talking to Saar? He wondered if his mentor had even seen anything. Teito felt almost guilty for disobeying Frau if not for what Mikage had said.

Lunch was quiet. The bishops talked among themselves, and the sisters talked amongst themselves, but between Ouida, Saar and Teito, few words were exchanged. Teito picked at his food, before Frau had slapped him on the head to stop playing with his food and eat up. "Gotta get your strength to help me for Holy week celebrations," he said. Teito had promptly ignored his appetite and ate like he meant it, and that drew a satisfied "hmph" from Frau. Castor hadn't mentioned a word of what they had heard Saar say at Fest's statue. Something didn't stick right about Saar: it was almost as if he was new to his state of confusion, even though Teito had seen it for the past few days. Teito had assumed Saar had always been like that. Why did someone born a warsfeil not believe in Verloren's existence, in the kors' purpose, let alone the legitimacy of the seven ghosts? It was odd to say the least.

He spotted Saar finish his meal, standing brusquely and leaving without so much of a word. Teito caught Castor's almost distressed face at his apprentice's silence throughout the meal, shaking his head at Teito before immersing himself in the conversation between Frau and Labrador.

"Teito, are you busy later?" Ouida piped up, considerably less uncomfortable than he had been with the air of silence between the three apprentices. What was with people asking him if he was busy or not? But Teito shook his head: Ouida did not deserve his sarcasm. "I'm going out into town after lunch to get something for Liam. His birthday is coming soon, so would you like to come along?" Teito looked to Frau, who had overheard but waved his hand almost nonchalantly.

"Yeah, yeah, go on. I won't keep you stuck in the church. Go out to town to play." Teito wanted to laugh at how Frau had expressed his approval, but the bishop leaned down to whisper into Teito's ear. "You _could_ help me get some of those, if you know what I mean…"

I was followed by an unceremonious whack to the head by Castor as Frau fell backwards from his chair onto the ground, robes a mess around him and sisters squealing slightly at the shock of the noise.

"Don't you _dare_, Teito," Castor said in his strict motherly tone. Frau grumbled as he sat back up, brushing his robes smooth again before Castor mysteriously drew his book from thin air, whacking Frau's face from the front. Frau's entire body tumbled to the ground and Teito swore he heard Labrador chuckle in amusement at Frau's plight. Ouida stood to take his leave, and Teito almost scrambled out of the dining hall.

"Honestly, I don't have anything to do in town," Teito admitted to Ouida as they walked towards the gate. "What Frau said was more or less true…" Ouida laughed as they waved to the gatekeepers. The bridge stood daringly long in front of them. Teito felt almost tired looking at it. The journey was fairly quick though, and as they passed from the fringe of the church into the town, Teito could smell a change in the air. It was the smell of civilisation, where people worked, traded and lived. Together with this smell came a different set of sights and sounds: the church was clean, pure and relatively quiet. Here in town, there was character and lively chatter. It reminded Teito of how the church felt when it held the bazaar, with the ebb and flow of people. He felt a smile come on for no particular reason.

"Fresh fish! Fresh fish!" he heard one merchant call out. At another corner he saw piles of fruit stacked in colourful pyramids resembling rainbows. Teito felt his pocket for the few coins he held, and Ouida paused patiently while Teito found himself examining a particularly red, shiny apple. Mikage, who had been sitting quietly on his shoulder all this while, let out a peal of laughter. Coming from a fyulong dragon, it was a purr that sounded more of approval.

_See, finally you're eating some real food, instead of pills,_ Mikage teased. Teito patted him affectionately on the head. Sometimes he wondered why Mikage had been chosen to take the form of the dragon, but it seemed to be a good fit. Mikage had always been his steadfast friend, his source for advice and anecdotes. Why should that change? It was Teito's turn to pause, munching on his abnormally large apple and watching Ouida pore over a selection of trinkets. Whether they had any purpose, Teito could not tell.

"What exactly do you have in mind, Ouida?" He was curious, peering behind Ouida's shoulder. The store sold all sorts of decorative knick-knacks, but what Ouida seemed to be examining was a collection of shells.

"Liam likes shells," Ouida said, his fingers running over the shiny exterior of a cowrie. "I'm just trying to figure out which one to get for him this year." His hand stopped over something Teito never really expected to see: a heart-shaped shell.

"That'd be a rare un, mister," the merchant commented. "Cardita, that one be called. Beautiful, and symbolic." But Ouida's attention had moved on to a bottle with lacy, white ribs and holes that showed a pair of shrimp bodies suspended in a heart-shape. "That's glass sponge. The two shrimp are like a couple, staying together in this home that feeds them until they die. Really nice, for lovey-dovey stuff." Teito could see the wheels click in Ouida's head. The glass sponge was a winner. Teito knew how close Ouida kept Liam to his heart, and that present would be a perfect symbol of Ouida's staunch persistence to taking care of his brother. Teito almost felt obliged to offer Liam a present as well, picking up the Cardita shell, examining the delicate hues of red and orange, before turning over his few coins.

"You really shouldn't have," Ouida chided him. But Teito felt happy as he finished the last of his apple. The merchant had been kind enough to include a display case for his purchase. He would go back, write a letter of encouragement to Liam and wrap it nicely. He could almost see the happiness on Liam's face when he unwrapped the present. Was this what humans anticipated, the success, joys and contentment of others? He thought back to Saar, how miserable he had seemed in his confusion. Teito could not help but wonder how he could help the man.

"It just seems so complex, so hopeless, Mikage."

_Banish the darkness, Teito._

"You've said that before," Teito tickled Mikage's nose playfully. "But how can I do that? How does it work? Is that really the problem?"

_Maybe you can find the source of his distress._

Teito stopped on his feet. Ouida walked a few steps, immersed in his own thoughts, before realising that Teito had stopped. "What's wrong Teito?"

"I think we went the wrong way." Teito's voice cracked slightly as Mikage soared into the air. They were on a particularly empty street. The hustle and bustle of town had dissipated to dangerous silence. Thought it was barely late into the day, Teito felt slightly nervous about getting lost in a foreign place.

"Never mind, we just have to walk back to the marketplace and ask for directions then," Ouida said almost too confidently, deciding to trust his ears and heading back to the market. Only that he couldn't. There was no sound to be heard, no chatter and no life. Not a bird sang above their heads, and the only sound came from Mikage's occasional calls. It was as if a dome of silence encased them, trapped them in isolation. Then Teito saw something that made his teeth chatter.

A man stood ahead of him in the street in full display. His head was handing to the side like as though his neck could not support it. His eyes were rolled to the back of his head, revealing stark whites. Saliva dribbled down the corner of his mouth as his entire body swayed, shuffling up the road to the two of them. Teito was panicking, a thousand situations coming to mind. Ouida stood, eyebrows furrowing. "Can we help you?"

"_Yeeeess, you mosssst certainly caaaan."_ Came the unnatural drawl that made Teito's hair stand on end. This was getting ugly: he knew that voice anywhere, yet he couldn't quite place it. Ouida's eyes had widened, but before Teito could ask, the man hissed out his final words.

"_You can give me… your soulsss!"_ Black hands manifested from behind the zombie of a man. Mikage gave a screech, jolting Teito to his senses. The trails of darkness now crawled along the ground as the mouth contorted slightly, giving a desperate grin of sadistic proportions.

_Oh shit, Frau, why now?_ Teito wanted to scream at luck's bad play of cards, but he found his hands morphing words of zaiphon, ready to release on the get go. Ouida's healing zaiphon readied behind him like a cannon desperate to fire. The wars noticed this, because it screamed, lunging forward as Teito let out a war cry. Lousy play of cards they may be, but the dark haired boy was ready for a reversal in fortune.

Today would be the day he defeated a wars, by hook or by crook.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * *

><p>"Slow day today, huh?"<p>

Konatsu was tempted to bite Hyuuga's head off, but then that wouldn't be respectful to Hyuuga, would it? It didn't help that he was handling his paperwork in his usual fashion – by forcing Konatsu to do it through sheer laziness and lack of will.

There hadn't been too many things for the Black Hawks to settle lately. The rebels seemed to have quietened down and any fight that they were called to settle seemed to last for a paltry five minutes or less. Recently, Konatsu had taken to watching the new recruits train daily. He saw one or two who were potential swordsmen, but never did dare try to teach them anything. It seemed too rude, and the Black Hawks were particularly notorious anyway. He didn't feel the need to be imposing on students.

He glanced down at the path that stretched from his feet, out of the room and out of District 1. It was a trail of zaiphon that spoke words of home, surrounded by the blood red of Takeshi's familiar energy. The furthest he had dared follow the path had been to the gates of the military fortress. It was fine for him to wander around, since he wasn't Warsfeil, at least not yet.

_But I wonder why Hyuuga-san or even Ayanami-san never bothered to offer to contract me into a Warsfeil._ Konatsu shovelled forms and documents into envelopes, neatly sticking stamps and printing addresses. He watched as Hyuuga slumped over his table, bored out of his wits. He wanted to laugh when it struck him: Konatsu slowly stood up from his chair, walking to the front of Hyuuga's table.

"Hyuuga-san?"

"Mm?" It was all his mentor could say, but that was enough of a response.

"I was wondering if I could apply for leave."

Hyuuga shot up from his table, starling Konatsu enough that he bumped into his own desk. This sent perfectly stacked pile of envelopes sliding left right and centre all over the floor. Konatsu cursed under his breath, picking up envelopes across the room and chucking them into the mail bin. Why hadn't he done it earlier? Hyuuga's response made him realise how stupid a question that was. Of course he couldn't take leave. He was in the Black Hawks, for crying out loud. No one cares if your estranged half-brother disappears from home, or that you care about him. Objective thought is valued, not feelings. Society wouldn't have it any other way. Konatsu shook his head.

"Why not?" Konatsu froze in his tracks, turning slowly to Hyuuga.

"You'll let me take leave?"

"Nope," Hyuuga snickered, and Konatsu's head dropped again. Trust Hyuuga not to take him seriously. "But if you tell me the reason why you need something as serious as leave, I might put in a word with Aya-tan." He had started fiddling with a dagger that had appeared out of nowhere. "Ooh, shiny."

Konatsu stared at the eyes hidden behind those armless, black glasses and decided a chance was worth more than no chance. "Family issues."

"Aah, something happen at home?"

"Yes, my step-brother is missing."

"And how does this concern you?" That question threw Konatsu off. He never would have expected to be forced to think about the situation in this manner, and now that Hyuuga had asked him he was not entirely sure himself. Sure, Takeshi had run away, but why was it so urgent that he had to take leave? Konatsu forced his legs to move, depositing the remainder of the envelopes into the mail bin to reveal a pristine desk. He sat back in his chair, directly opposite Hyuuga.

"I'm concerned for him."

The black-haired Warsfeil looked up from his drawing, as if he were reading Konatsu's very soul. He didn't know how he was supposed to react, but for once he saw Hyuuga put his pen down, turning the paper with a flourish as it flew gracefully through the air onto Konatsu's table, face-down. Something turned in his stomach when he saw Hyuuga's drawing: a portrait of himself, sitting at the table, diligently finishing his paperwork.

"I'll ask Aya-tan, and see what we can do." Konatsu looked up to see Hyuuga's face inches from his own as he let out a yelp, throwing himself backwards instinctively. His chair rocked back and forth, threatening to vomit Konatsu out of his seat. Since when had he left his table? "I'm sure you must be really, really concerned to ask for leave, right Konatsu?" He patted his Begleiter's head affectionately, before he walked out of the office, producing a lollipop from his pocket and humming gaily past the mountain of paper that sat on his own table.

Konatsu waited until the door clicked shut before he let out a sigh of relief. It had worked. Against all odds it had worked. How it worked, or why, he couldn't tell and he didn't know. But as he took Hyuuga's administrative papers from the table and set it on his own, he felt a rush of determination run through him. His lips moved, letting out a soft whisper.

"Hold on Takeshi, I'm coming for you."

* * *

><p>Hyuuga had seen so much in Konatsu.<p>

He paced himself on his walk to Ayanami's office. What he had seen in Konatsu's eyes was so familiar, so striking… he couldn't have said no even if he wanted to. It was the same feeling that he got when he looked at Ayanami, the feeling of connectedness and concern. It was the same kind of bond that Ayanami had shared with Yukikaze and continued to hold onto. Konatsu had never told him of anyone he really cared about before, only that his entire family more or less shunned him for not being Warsfeil.

_But why doesn't Aya-tan want Konatsu to become a Warsfeil?_ It didn't matter. That look was enough to tell him how desperately Konatsu wanted out. The past few weeks had been boring anyways, the rebels quieting down and everyone settling nicely. Holy Week was coming about soon. Maybe that was what prompted Konatsu to ask too. Hyuuga turned a gloved hand around the doorknob without knocking.

"Ayaaaa-taaaaan!"

* * *

><p><em>Teito.<em>

Teito opened his eyes, but all he could see was darkness. He vaguely recalled screaming in his determination to defeat a Wars today, by hook or by crook. How had he ended up in this state of suspension? He felt his fingers move, but the darkness swallowed all traces of their existence. It felt weird being detached from his visual senses when he was so sure of his body's movements.

_Teito._

This time the voice rang out stronger, clearer. It was a voice that Teito had not heard for a long time. The feeling buzzed through him, slowly, but surely. It was a small flame of warmth that lit his insides, like an army of ants marching through his veins. He wanted to let out a cry, though he was unsure if it was of relief, joy or sadness. He wanted to ask the voice if he was real or imagination, but his mind pushed his lips to form around the most concrete word he could find.

_Father!_

_Teito!_ The darkness moved. Teito felt the rippling in the air, both above and below him. The sky broke with a gash of light, revealing a silhouette, tall and with arms outstretched. The darkness ripped itself apart, as if someone had reached into the fabric of its space, making it flee from the blinding light. Teito flinched, his eyes refusing to focus. He flinched at the light, squinting as he saw his vision adjust. He could just make out silvery locks and grey eyes approaching him. For a moment Teito was frozen to the ground.

His legs moved on their own. They started out as firm, solid steps. But when Fea's face came into full view, Teito felt his soul lift. He flung himself into the man's arms, and suddenly he was young again. Teito felt light as air, his body clinging to Fea's as he swung Teito around. Teito's arms were wrapped around Fea, from fear of being flung away or from losing the Father, he didn't know. All he could hear were sobs and all he could feel was the wetness on his cheeks as the Father bent down gently, grazing Teito's forehead with his lips.

_Father…_ his voice cracked as he choked, overcome with emotion. _Father, I miss you._

_I miss you too, Tiashe._ The name sent a shiver of nostalgia down Teito's spine. _Look how you've grown!_

_But where am I, Father?_ Teito couldn't help but ask, looking around him. The space of black had become a brightly-lit nothingness. _I was going to fight the Wars, I was going to defeat it with Ouida, and then I ended up here._

Fea chuckled. _So much like you to focus on the problem at hand._ Teito felt warm hands on his head, drawing Teito's body close to Fea. _Don't worry, this will be just a split second in your reality, my child._

And Teito felt it. It was like a huge burden had been lifted off his back. He had thought it was Fea's strength that had lifted him as if he were a child, but now he could truly feel himself floating off the ground. _What happened, Father? Are you here to help me defeat the Wars?_

_In a sense,_ Fea still embraced Teito, the breath of unseen zephyrs tossing through the space. _Do you know why you never could defeat the Wars, Tiashe?_

_Why?_

_Because of you._ Teito cocked his head in question. Fea pulled himself away from Teito, and he could feel those kind grey eyes meet his. _Because of your past as a battle slave and a student of the military, you could never forgive yourself for killing, for bringing unnatural ends to peoples' lives._ Teito tried to remember how it had felt like, but it all seemed a distant memory now, barely holding onto his memory by the barest of threads. He grasped at fragments of sadness, panic and maniacal scenes of bloodshed. Faces flashed before his eyes, and while they no longer seemed as significant as the images of Frau, Hakuren and Castor in his mind, something bugged him about those nameless faces. Those were people whom he probably never got a chance to reason with before slicing open their throats.

_Tiashe, I'm here to help you._ The grip on his shoulders grew stronger, more resolute, and Teito could feel the same feelings resonate within him, the dank, heavy depression that came with his recollection dispersing. _You have to let it go. You have to forgive yourself for everything. Forgive, but not forget: they are two different things. You have to learn from your experiences and accept your mistakes, but let them feed your growth to be a better person. _Teito held anxiously onto one of those hands, looking down. What the Father said was right, but…

_Father, how do I forgive myself?_ Teito felt a welling of childish innocence erupt as he said those words. It had been so long since he'd been able to talk like a true child, with the trust and confidence in someone whom he could confide. It made him want to sing, dance and cry all at once, but he tried to keep his emotions in check as tears threatened to well up for a second time. _It's not like I'm doing this for the sake of defeating the Wars: I truly am sorry for what I did in the past, but I don't know how to let go of it._

_Tiashe,_ Fea sighed happily, lifting his grip and holding both of Teito's hands in his own. _Tiashe, I've done what I can for you. You can feel the lightness in your body because of it, can't you?_ Teito nodded, looking eagerly at Fea's smile._ But I can't tell you how to forgive yourself. Perhaps talk to yourself. You'd be surprised._ Teito thought Fea was trying to trick him, but it sounded plausible. He felt a blush rush through his cheeks at his doubting of the Father's words.

_Sometimes, words are more powerful than you think. Go on, try it. Say the first thing that comes to mind. Say it with the conviction and belief that it is what you truly intend._

Teito did what instinctively came to him: he closed his eyes, plunging himself back into darkness.

_Remember, Tiashe, I'll always be here for you._

The warmness of his voice and his touch for was too much for Teito to bear. He could not stand to see Fea Kreuz leave, and it felt as if when he said those words, Fea would disappear, and Teito would be forced back into reality. This time, Teito was the one who felt the Father's arms, the soft cassock and wrapped around him, as he pulled Fea's body in an embrace for farewell.

_I love you, Father._

_I love you too, Tiashe._

Teito took in a breath, banishing all thoughts of self-criticism. No one was here to hear him other than the Father.

"I forgive…"

Teito suddenly felt doubt welling inside of himself. But one last look at Fea's smiling, grey eyes quashed any resistance.

"I forgive myself."

"Teito!"

Ouida's voice snapped him out of his reverie. He looked around to assess the situation. Arms of blackness were fast approaching him, and Teito swung his Baculus instinctively, or at least he tried. He was weaponless, and the ball of zaiphon which he had been charging flung out at the Wars. Teito felt the wind buffet against his face at the force of the attack. Ouida lashed out, strings of healing zaiphon striking each arm like nails pinning them to the ground. Teito charged the energy in his hands, sharpening them to blades as each sliced the smoky, raven-coloured arms to dust. Above his head, Mikage screeched. Teito looked to see something approach from behind.

"Ouida!"

His pushed the boy down low to the ground as a claw of black magic swept over his head, skidding to a halt on the dusty pavement and reorienting itself. Teito muttered a quick apology, feeling the buzz in his hands as the zaiphon he collected electrified his nerves. He could feel the anticipation and adrenaline soar within him, yet it was not the high that spoke to him and controlled his actions. No, he was still in control: Fea's last words in that other dimension were still ringing in his head as a promise to Teito.

_I love you too, Tiashe._

Teito let out a roar, stunning Ouida as he threw himself towards the Wars.

"Teito! Don't let it touch you!" But Ouida's advice might as well have never left his mouth. The Wars had no time to react as Teito's zaiphon slammed into him, a hundred arcs of energy piercing through the zombified body as Teito replayed those words over and over again in his head. Ouida could only shape his zaiphon to surround the Wars, channelling Teito's attacks straight into the heart of the spirit. Teito thought he could hear the grunt and scream of the spirit who called foul, but refused to let go of its physical form

_That's it's weakness,_ Teito thought as he continued to pummel shot after shot into the Wars. _It doesn't want to leave its body._ The revelation of the entire situation sent him into a frenzy. Words of black and blue pounded into its head, spilling what rotting remains on the ground. His zaiphon sliced endlessly through the shrivelled limbs as muscle tore apart like soft fabric. But in their place grew limbs of darkness and smoke, and a head that glowed evilly with two lights for eyes. Teito felt a surge of determination as he remembered what he had said to Fea.

_I love you, Father._

Teito felt his arms scream as he doubled back to Ouida. The sky was still bright, but there was still no one on the street, not a single soul had heard the explosions and run to their aid. He couldn't even hear the market, and all the houses were hopelessly empty. Teito could feel his vial of holy water in the pocket of his robe. The Wars gurgled mischievously.

"Now, now," it said, rubbing the two not-hands together. Teito cringed at the voice grating in his ears, that horrid sandpaper voice sounding ten times more mutilated and raw. How would they overcome this foe? Teito was frozen to the ground, trying to push his mind to come up with a solution. "I can go on for the entire day, so just **give up**!" Ouida's healing zaiphon stretched out to cover Teito, Mikage and himself as a wall of screaming souls tore at them, dissolving into mist.

"Oi, Teito! Pay attention!" The sharpness of Ouida's voice cut Teito out of his reverie. He stumbled back as the Wars threw knives of shadow, too many to count. Teito grabbed Ouida's arm, leaping on surfaces made by his zaiphon to escape the attacks, but they just kept coming. Teito jumped, feeling one strike his platform as the blast sent him careening across the air. Ouida rolled his zaiphon up into a shield, buffeting them against the impact of slamming into the roof of another house.

"Sorry Ouida," Teito coughed as more dust was stirred. If they didn't destroy that Wars soon, they would either run out of zaiphon or choke to death on dirt. Teito flung a hand out, blindly launching an arc of zaiphon into the air. It struck something, sending it shattering to the ground. Teito could hear the cracks form from nowhere, the sound coming like an egg being slammed against the ground, but then he realised that part of the sky had turned from pale blue to dusky orange.

"Ouida, cover me!" He saw that long ponytail swish in affirmation as he lashed out at his sides. The Wars threw a flaming skull towards the three of them. Ouida heard it whisper the vilest of profanities, lashing out with a blast of zaiphon in protest. The attacks buffeted against each other, exploding in a myriad of colour, creating a sizeable crater. Teito threw arcs of words in all directions, gathering the emotions he felt from Fea's kindness and resolution to forgive, strengthening and speeding the travel of his zaiphon as he heard the crack, crack, crack of the barrier, like a mirror being shattered as the sounds of the market started to leak in.

"Teito! Ouida!"

Two baculus staves clanked down beside them, his and Ouida's own. Teito didn't have time to look or ask. This was the opportunity he needed, the weapon he was required to have to defeat this hopeless creature. It had started to stagger backwards, the smoke that was its being dissipating more to mist as it cried out in protest.

"No, no, no!"

Teito saw Ouida's zaiphon harden around the Wars, trapping it in a cage that it could not escape. He could see the light that glowed from behind him as Ouida held his zaiphon.

"Do it now, Teito! Do it before I run out!"

Teito closed his eyes, summoning his thoughts, his desire to defeat the Wars, his need to become bishop, his love for the people around him, and his determination to help Saar. The baculus glowed white as strings of zaiphon screamed out their pure black-on-blue words. He closed his eyes, feeling the power surge through, gritting his teeth as he flung the baculus with a roar of defiance.

The baculus never got to strike the Wars. A shockwave formed at the tip, blasting Teito back into the air. The Wars let out its silent scream, its last show of rebelliousness as the light wiped away its existence. Ouida saw it dissolve, piece by piece, evaporating into the air as the remainder of the barrier crackled, snapping like pieces of glass tinkling to the ground. Teito could see the sunset as he made a wide arc across the air, not yet falling, but not in control of his movements either.

"Gotcha."

He felt his body lurch in the opposite direction as strong hands carried him in midair back to Ouida, setting Teito back down on earth with jelly feet. His head was spinning, and voices were laughing, speaking, shouting all at once. He held out a hand for silence, but all he felt was another hand supporting his own, this time ungloved and smooth, while the voices took forever to subside.

When he stood, he examined the area around him. There was not a sign of the damage the both of them had caused, like as though the Wars had created its own personal dimension. People were walking about normally, and stallholders were busy closing shop. Last-minute bargains were thrown across the marketplace as coins exchanged hands. Teito stumbled forward slightly, seeing a smile on Ouida's face and Mikage residing happily enough on his fellow apprentice's shoulder. The hand that steadied him belonged to a golden-haired man, but which one?

"Ah, Saar, Frau."

"Stupid brat, flying in the air like a bird?" Frau wrestled Teito, grabbing his neck as he ground his knuckles on Teito's head with a noogie. Teito could only protest loudly. "You're lucky you even broke the barrier at all!" Teito looked up at Frau, but the smile on his face was one of pride. It wasn't anything like the angry, irritated face he was expecting. Saar, on the other hand, looked more worried.

"We came as soon as I felt it. Having Wars active out in the open was weird, and I could hear what it was saying. I called Bishop Frau immediately," he glanced at the bishop rather nervously, "and he got your baculuses just it case it was the two of you who were fighting that Wars." Teito could see him swallow, looking down to the ground. Teito felt himself laugh as he grabbed Saar. The taller man lurched forward awkwardly, caught unawares as Teito wrapped his arms around Saar's stocky frame.

"Thank you."

Saar pulled away, but not before blushing a furious shade of tomato. Teito tried to speak out an apology, but his mouth refused to work. Frau just slapped him on the back.

"Well, better get back. Don't want the Imperial Guard hating on us for being late now, do we?" Frau turned his back, and this time Teito, Saar and Ouida followed, making sure they memorised the way back to the church. Of course, the unsaid message would have added something along the lines of "and I don't want Castor whooping my ass because I didn't come save the both of you earlier."

Teito smiled, walking up beside Frau as they made the silent journey back to the church.

* * *

><p>"Saar?"<p>

The Warsfeil had been staring out the window as wind swept up his sable locks. He felt odd with long hair. Castor's voice hadn't been lost on him, but he chose to sigh before turning back to face his mentor who stood in the doorway.

"Yes, Castor-san?"

"Does the military know you are here?"

Such an odd question coming out of nowhere; trust Castor to be so frank with his questions. Saar looked at his feet, wondering how to answer that. He shouldn't have had wondered, because Castor came to sit beside him and now he was sweating buckets over an answer he knew how to tell. It was ridiculous at best.

"They know I exist in my former household, but no one knows of my whereabouts. It is unlikely that anyone in my former household will tell on me to the military. To them I am insignificant."

He knew that it would only be a matter of time before Castor would ask him about Konatsu. The test had revealed too much about him: a large majority of what he wanted to keep secret had been thrown out for the examiners to see. But Saar had to trust this man. He couldn't just live a lie with Castor. If he was going to let his mentor understand and help him, why should he hide anything?

"One of the people that appeared in your second examination was from the Black Hawks, a special consignment of the military." This time, Castor didn't ask anything. Saar knew that Castor wouldn't demand an answer from Saar, but again he knew the man was waiting for something, some sort of explanation, and that it was only a matter of time before he would have to reveal his true identity. He clasped his hands tight, wringing them together as his palms turned slick with sweat. He hated these one-on-one conversations as he suppressed a thought of indignation at Castor trying to pry into his life.

"You don't need to tell me if you don't want to."

"It's fine," these words were breathed out perhaps too quickly, and so Saar took in a deep breath to rid himself of lingering doubts.

"I grew up with him."

That was really all he was willing to tell. Saar tapped his foot to an unheard rhythm as Castor dwelt on the fact. What were the chances that the boy from the Black Hawks would come for Saar? He wasn't just worried for his apprentice: he was worried for the safety of the entire church. It wasn't something he could take lightly, yet he couldn't help but withhold his usual lecturing on how important it was to trust people with such information. He could not bring himself to say it, because for once he was wondering if he had compromised on the boy's trust when he wiped all memories pertaining to the seven ghosts from Saar's mind. Castor's face drew into a tight and expressionless mask as the thoughts swam within his mind. It had been the source of the man's conflict and dilemmas ever since he came to the church.

Saar had come into the church to seek refuge, but Castor had unwittingly caused even more trouble for the young man.

_Sometimes, being impartial sucks,_ he cursed to himself. A butterfly flitted into the room, catching the last rays of sunlight and with it, a breath from Saar as well.

"Butterflies always remind me of the chaos theory," he pondered out loud.

Castor had read about it before: the butterfly effect. It wasn't as if he had never pondered the question, but he listened to Saar's doubts anyway.

"Do things work out like that, or is it really the Chief of Heaven that premeditates all our actions down to the very last word? Was Teito's and Ouida's defeat of the Wars caused by something that happened in the past that was chosen from a series of events, or was it all planned linearly? Do prophesies predict a very large but unknown possibility or do they state the inevitable?" The butterfly had flitted past his nose, before landing on the window, opening and closing its wings as if at a beauty pageant. Castor didn't know the answer to the question, and Saar hadn't expected him to know.

He didn't expect anyone to know.

He didn't go for dinner, and he had told Castor before the bells rung. He didn't want to sit and be the cause of the lack of conversation and awkwardness at the table. Castor had rubbished the claims, but Saar didn't go anyway. He had walked Castor to the dining hall, standing outside as Castor asked him for the final time whether he was sure about this. He had simply shook his head. "Go on ahead without me," and he had tried to smile. The word was "tried", because Castor had let out a laugh before walking in, unaccompanied. It made Saar almost feel bad.

Saar could feel the silence and coolness of the evening sweep over him as he made his way to the fountain. It was amazing how empty the church would become when they were given the chance to congregate during mealtimes. Occasionally he would see a bishop examinee rush towards the mess hall, but other than that the church was doused in a blanket of quiet. It was nice. To him, silence had always indicated something being wrong, but in the church, peace was prevalent. His ears caught the breath of someone as he whirled around.

"Razette?"

The noel mermaid giggled, swimming in one of the tributaries that surrounded the central fountain. She had swopped her face, startling Saar as he saw Frau glare straight at him. She broke out into peals of laughter, reverting back to her own profile as he felt a grin break out on his face. Razette would never fail to make him smile. She was his only true confidante in the church. Sure, he talked to Teito and Castor, but he never really did reveal everything. Razette could see everything without asking for it. She could hear the sadness from the heavy breaths he would take, and the joy he would occasionally carry when his voice was light and jumpy. She would say as much.

_What's wrong?_ Her voice carried that question. Saar chose to take his shoes off, immersing his feet into the clean water that was black from night, trying to feel for the bottom as he rolled the robe up to his knees.

_**Nothing's wrong,**_ he sang back.

_Come on, tell me._ She flicked her tail, putting Frau's scowling face back on as droplets of water landed on Saar's face.

He didn't laugh, or rather, he couldn't. It seemed that lately all he could do was sigh.

Suddenly, Saar plunged his face into the water, drenching a good part of his robes with it as he screamed. The bubbled ran across his face as he screamed himself blue. Saar felt the gamut of emotions run from his mind into the water: heat from anger, dizziness from confusion, coldness from fear all leached from the crevices of his eyes into the frustrated voice that yelled. Pulling himself back up on from the water, he panted and gasped for breath, looking around for Razette.

There she was, hiding behind the main spigot, eyes wide with fear.

_**What's wrong?**_His voice was hoarse as he hacked, feeling something tighten in his throat. Slowly the noel mermaid swam back to him, clasping his hands in hers.

_You… you just sounded so angry and hurt. I was scared that you might do something._

Saar reached out gently to stroke Razette's pink mane of hair.

_**I won't do anything, not if I can control myself.**_

_Why don't you sing your anger away?_ Razette asked. Saar looked questioningly at her, before his face broke out into a smile. It had seemed so simple a solution that he had never consciously thought about doing it before. Saar remembered how he would always run to the forest when he was angry at the head of the house. He would climb a tree, sit on a branch and sing with the birds. Sometimes they would stop, and sometimes they would change their song with him. But it took his mind off the troubles of the day. He realised he hadn't sung in awhile, at least not since the anniversary of Bastien's funeral, and it was high time.

There was no one around anyway.

_**What kind of song do you want me to sing?**_

_Any song that makes you feel better._

That was enough. Saar knew which song to sing to make him feel better.

_**On the clouds o'er the bay,  
>And the hills far away,<br>Lie the land once told  
>In our fathers' days.<strong>_

_**In that land, it was said,  
>Was a gift that would gravitate<br>To hearts of men that were pure  
>and those who were celibate.<strong>_

Saar paused to chuckle at the lyrics. He had always laughed at this.

_**This, the gift of the gods  
>That made all stand in awe<br>As the chosen one  
>Would brighten like the sun.<strong>_

_**For it would take his soul  
>His body, no more whole<br>For the sins of the people  
>Forgiven through this vehicle.<strong>_

_**But men they forget  
>What a life costs at hand.<br>So the lords doomed the land  
>and the guilty, they were brand.<strong>_

_**By cold, hard iron  
>They rose and they fell,<br>So that man would be pious,  
>And never forget hell-<strong>_

"Saar!"

He cut off the trailing note as Teito ran up to him.

"There you are, Castor-san wants to speak with you. He says it's something to do with Holy Week, so it's probably important."

Saar started blankly at the water. Razette had fallen asleep, her hands wrapped around his. As slowly and gently as he could, he slipped out of her reach, pausing to take one last look at the fountain before he followed Teito back into the dark, suddenly foreboding corridors of the church, to wrap himself up in duty yet again.

* * *

><p>AN: You'll probably be realising that this chapter is written like shit. I'm sorry, it was done on-the-fly, and Azure was, again, kind enough to beta it for me. Personally I feel some parts were forced, but what the hell. Thank you for reading, and please review! Chapters 6 and 7 have more or less been planned out, and hopefully would take a shorter time to be written and edited than this one. Again, thanks for waiting and reading!


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * *

><p>It was the first time Saar came up to a garden that wasn't empty.<p>

"Bishop Labrador," he greeted out of courtesy. It was odd to say the least. Saar didn't even know why he wanted to talk to Labrador – their conversations had always been limited to polite exchanges of greetings and discussions about the weather, or how Labrador was tending to his gardens.

Sitting _in_ the garden with the gardener, on the other hand, was a totally different experience altogether. Saar found that he now doubted his decision to approach Bishop Labrador for help. His hands were clasped in front, nervously playing with the hem of the stiff fabric. His eyes wandered slowly from bush to bush, taking in the deep scent of rose beds and lavender plots, tinted by the delicately tinted yellow of midday light.

"Come, have a seat."

But he knew that the reason justified the meeting beyond doubt. Saar seated himself in the pavilion, directly opposite of Labrador. There was nothing wrong with talking to Bishop Castor: Saar talked to him all the time, but he knew how calculative his mentor could be at times. If there was anyone who could give him a truthful, honest opinion, it would be Labrador.

And his tea.

The silence, though, was horrendously deafening. Saar didn't know how to start the conversation with the demure, purple-haired bishop. It was especially awkward for him, since the subject of their discussion was himself, and he hated talking about himself, though it had come to a point where what he hated no longer mattered. No one other than him cared, and it seemed that since he left the house, his entire world had turned upside down, all concept of humanity with it.

"Tea?"

"Yes please." He would take it how he used to at home – no milk and no sugar. When he could, he would wander the kitchens secretly with his cup of tea and snitch tiny goblets of milk and precious sugar cubes from the kitchen. If he was lucky, he would find those black, weird chewy balls they imported from the Antwort territory. Peculiar, delightful little things.

But this was a flower tea, so no milk and sugar. The awkward silence held tensely as the sound of tea gushing to meet delicate chinaware did nothing to alleviate Saar's sudden muteness.

"I heard from Castor that you're helping Teito and Ouida-kun with defeating the wars."

Saar shrugged. "I'm not sure if I would call it help, but yes, more or less. Teito-san has had experience dealing with wars, he just needed to garner more strength. Both of them make a good pair."

"How does your training go, then?"

"Kor extraction is fine. Bishop Castor says I am quite proficient in it." He knew that statement about the Kor was more or less redundant. What Labrador wanted to know was how he was taking to learning from Teito on how to fight. He had to pause and stare blankly at a shrub bursting with azalea to think of what he felt when he had seen Teito fighting.

"Watching Teito fight…" it was the exact opposite of how Saar fought: he was slow and strong, taking out enemies with a single hit… if it hit. Teito was deadly fast and precise, like a whisper in the wind.

It felt like as though they were asking an elephant to learn to ways of a mouse.

"What about Teito?"

Suddenly, Saar didn't want to say anything anymore, as if his lips had gone into lockdown. Still, he forced something out of them.

"The way he fights…" Labrador leaned in for a better ear. "It's amazing."

"How so?"

"Everything." Saar knew he was more or less falling into coercion, to reveal his feelings to Labrador and to make himself an open book, but suddenly it didn't seem to matter so much anymore. "It's like as though Teito is the antithesis of myself... the embodiment of what I desire to be like but cannot become."

"You mean, in fighting? Or..."

"Not just the way he fights the wars," Saar took a deep breath. It required the mustering of a lot of courage for him to praise someone or look up to them. The first few words came out dry and shattered. "It's the way he does things with a larger picture in mind, and how strongly rooted he is in the church and its beliefs. I, on the other hand..." He rounded the sentence off with a pregnant silence that threatened to drop off the cliff of suspense.

"You don't know about this, do you?" Labrador had taken the liberty to finish Saar's statement. The apprentice stared blankly into his cup, watching the flowers float in the steaming water, lifeless yet seemingly carefree. "You know, when Teito came to this church two years ago, he had no intention of becoming a bishop?"

Saar was unsure of how incredulous the statement was, and so he sat there, muted, still staring down.

"He had no intention whatsoever." Labrador paused to take a sip, setting the cup down with a smile. "I think Castor managed to convince him to take the apprentice exams out of revenge for something he lost."

"What did he lose?"

"I don't know," Labrador said, and Saar couldn't help but believe him. He had to believe Labrador, otherwise this entire conversation would be worthless gossip.

"But how does he know that the beliefs of the church are true, and not a bunch of legends or myths?" Saar felt almost blasphemous speaking like that to a fully-fledged bishop like Labrador. A swig of tea solved that problem. Labrador, on the other hand, was not placated.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because there's no proof!" All semblance of courtesy seemed to evaporate from Saar with that one sentence. "It's the same with all these things: how do you know that the kingdom is truly ruled by his majesty and not actually by an institution like the military, or even the church for any matter? How does one know if there were enemies around us? It's the same for faith: it is the pointless belief in something that you never know if real or not."

"How about the wars, kor and warsfeil? How do you explain that?" Labrador was careful with his questions: he didn't want to dig Saar deeper into the hole of doubt he had already dug for himself.

"It's the same with zaiphon and warsfeil magic: science." Saar was ostensibly frustrated now. "It's a natural set of phenomena that we can see and study! It's physical: what is there not to believe about these things?" The taste and smell of tea no longer calmed his nerves like it had a few minutes ago, but Saar gulped it down anyway, trying not to think about the fact that he had acted like a douchebag to someone who had ben so kind to listen to him.

Labrador continued to sit there. He knew Saar was not finished.

"I'm sorry, bishop Labrador," Saar covered his face with his hands. "It's just that... I don't seem to know why I'm here anymore, if I even knew in the first place."

The birds that chirped seemed not to care.

"Let me tell you something, Saar," Labrador said in a hushed tone. "The bishops all around you – perhaps the battle ones at least – have all become apprentices because of something they wanted to achieve. But when they became bishops, it's like as though we forget our goals in the process of attaining them.

"I'm not sure of your situation before coming here, but you came here with a very specific mindset. Do you still remember?"

Saar's eyes scanned fragments of memories playing out before him as Labrador watched, those golden pupils trying to see into his own past. He was met with a defeated sigh.

"I don't remember."

"What about during the examination, when you had to work with someone weaker than you?" Labrador knew he hit something, because Saar's eyes grew wide with realisation.

"I think I said I'll use my abilities to help others, to support them." Yes, he clearly remembered that conversation with Ouida and Teito by the fountain. "But that still doesn't change the fact that I am working in an institution whose beliefs I do not subscribe to. How do I do that when I'm always overwhelmed by this... guilt?"

Labrador wished he could just show Saar a reason that the beliefs of the church were not unfounded myths. It would be so easy to change, show him that the seven ghosts truly existed. Castor's erasure of Saar's memory made things too complicated for the poor apprentice. Slowly, his hand reached across the table to gently grasp Saar's shoulder. It made him sit up and look into Labrador's eyes.

"The most important set of beliefs you should follow are yours, Saar." Labrador could hear the flowers breathe along with him, murmuring their assent. "Hold onto what you have now and continue to work toward your goal. We – Castor, Teito, Ouida, myself, all of us – we'll be here to support you."

Saar felt his shoulders slouch, like he had just completed a great ordeal. Labrador let out a light chuckle. "You and Teito aren't so different. It's just a matter of time, you'll see."

"Yes, bishop Labrador," Saar muttered as Labrador poured them another cup of tea. "We'll just wait and see."

* * *

><p>Castor heard footsteps, but he wasn't sure what to expect until he spotted Labrador's purple-tinted hair and the too-calm face that was framed by it.<p>

"I just had a chat with your apprentice." Castor looked up from his paperwork. "I hope you are slightly more alert now, because his situation right now is beyond complicated."

The seriousness of Labrador's tone told Castor that this probably wasn't something to brush off. "What is it, Labrador?" The gesture to an empty chair was met with a shake of his head, but he didn't start. The only thing Castor heard was the murmur of the crowd from people busy setting up the tents for the Holy Week bazaar. "Well?"

"You erased his memories after the first incident, when he first came here."

"Yes." That wasn't a question. That was a statement. "You were there."

"I've been thinking that perhaps it wasn't the best idea." Castor could see it now: lines of worry and concern were etched onto Labrador's face as he spoke. If anything worried Labrador, it should be something extremely serious. What Labrador didn't know was that Castor had been examining the same problem since Saar first became an examinee. Somehow, erasing his memory of Frau withdrawing Verloren's scythe caused Saar to forget everything about the seven ghosts and Verloren.

Castor could only reply with his true feelings. "I know."

"But you didn't think this would happen, did you?"

"I didn't." Castor stood from his chair, pacing around the room with slow deliberate steps. "I was just following protocol."

"Fuck the protocol," a new voice growled into the fray. A certain blonde-haired bishop stepped into the room.

"You, on the other hand, need to follow protocol," Castor gave Frau an irritated glare with possible a tinge of venom in his voice.

"Sorry, but I have to agree with Labrador on this one. When you erased his memories you screwed him big time." Castor could smell the smoke lingering on Frau's clothes: had he been smoking again? He chose to wrinkle his nose disapprovingly at Frau as the blonde stuck his tongue in jest.

"Stop it, you two." Labrador wasn't smiling and Castor tried to cough some of the awkwardness away.

"Then what should we do then, oh great predictor of the future?" Frau said, bowing slightly, almost condescendingly. Castor tried to glare, but Labrador broke his focus.

"Is there no way for Lance to show him his past?"

"Out of the question," Castor didn't miss a beat. "We can't possibly show off our abilities again, and what's to say that he will believe anything he sees?"

"Isn't that the point?" Frau interjected.

"Still out of the question," Castor was being resolutely stubborn now. "Unless you somehow mysteriously receive Vertrag's powers and can restore his memories without showing him our true forms, then no."

"Then what? You're going to leave your next apprentice to wallow in his ignorance or denial or whatever it was until he miraculously discovers the answers to all his questions?" Frau unleashed a fist onto the wall behind him, a web of cracks radiating from the point of impact. "I went through that! No one should have to, Glasses, no one!"

Castor didn't know what to say to that. He genuinely wanted to help Saar in any way he could, but from where he stood, he was not at liberty to reveal his true identity. The only alternative solution on his end was to let Saar work through his problems on his own. Frau, on the other hand, obviously didn't want that.

"I don't know," he finally conceded. Frau didn't seem appeased by those three syllables, but gave a sigh of no meaning.

"Be careful, Castor." Labrador's voice was hardly a whisper. "Something is afoot, and it involves Saar. If you don't find a convincing solution soon, it will be more than just his life at stake."

Castor felt the cool concrete wall against the flush of red-hot of his forehead and Frau's voice next to his ear.

"We've got to help him, Castor."

"We do," Castor sighed. "Yes, we do."

* * *

><p>There was nothing to describe it. Time, flying past your face – to Saar, it was a blur of events one after the other. Teito's and Ouida's defeat of the Wars that day had sparked something of a frenzy of training for the both of them. The kor seemed like nothing now, and now the source of their training came from weeding out the wars that plagued the streets of district 7 in the dark.<p>

Of course, they hadn't done it indiscriminately: Frau was there to supervise their "training" of sorts, and had been useful once when a situation turned sticky. Then, of course, Saar was there. He was the one who helped the both of them find the wars, the one who could hear the screams for souls and the one who would shudder when he heard the cry of one soul that would never be able to meet the master: the Chief of Heaven.

Right now, Saar could feel something rattle his bones as he watched Ouida trap the wars in a net of zaiphon, the gentle glow of his energy leaking at the edges with gelatinous strings of black. Teito was a picture of quiet concentration, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed down to slits. It all happened so quickly: Teito's hands glowed with arcs of zaiphon. He quickened his pace, footsteps going furiously at quick one-two-one-two. The rhythm of his breaths kept in time with the buzz and cackle of the arcane energy swelling through the air. Saar could feel himself hold his breath as Teito arced his body.

Boom!

Saar could hear the wars curse and swear, screaming out indistinguishable sounds of a thousand tongues. It flung the physical arms of the person it possessed, Saar hearing the familiar tear of flesh as it slammed itself against the indestructible cage held up by Ouida's willpower alone. All it could manage was a feeble thrash for the sake of it as Teito swept a final arc of zaiphon through the abomination like a hot knife through butter, dissolving it as glitter in the air.

The silence was punctuated only by Teito's and Ouida's heavy breaths. Both of them stood there, hands on their knees, chests heaving, their silhouettes outlined only by the shine of the moon.

The walk back to the church was almost dull in comparison. Tomorrow, Teito and Ouida would become fully-fledged bishops, and they were calm, almost tired even, but they exuded this sense of accomplishment, some radiance of unknown joy.

And then it was tomorrow again. Saar blinked. It felt like the night had truly been forgetful and not worth remembering. But now, he found himself staring at a crowd of thousands, and somewhere in the background he could hear something or someone.

"Bishop Teito, Bishop Ouida…"

_The convocation?_ He turned his head like it was merely a weight on his shoulders, feeling detached from his very soul. In the corner of his vision he spotted the two familiar faces. No longer were they dressed in the modest robes of apprentices: now they stood, pure white cassocks billowing out from beneath them, and the familiar square hats perched on their heads, veils obscuring their faces. Ouida was smiling, Liam threatening to explode from excitement as he held onto his elder brother's hand.

Teito, on the other hand, looked almost bewildered, as if he never expected this day to come. He stared into blank space, mindlessly exchanging his apprentice pass. Mikage was perched on his shoulder, the ever-growing fyulong nibbling on his ear in some protest against his spacing-out. Assistant archbishop Castor was there, assisting archbishop Jiro in passing the intricately-decorated bishop's pass. It was only when Castor placed his hand on Teito's shoulder did the boy shake his head out of his reverie to smile back politely at Castor.

_Why did Teito want to become a bishop?_ Saar found himself asking that question over and over again. Even when the bishops cleared the stage and the sound of applause reverberated through his bones, Saar was slowly coming to realise he had never discussed this issue with Teito before.

"And now, the choir shall sing the blessing song." Saar, caught up in his thoughts, forgot that Razette wasn't going to play the organ, and he held the entry of the blessing song. A nudge and smile from Castor broke that train of thought. It wasn't like him to space out so often, let alone at important events like today. Nervousness was a given, and when he opened his mouth he found his legs shaking like jelly. The song was an old tune of farewell, of hope, of promises. Saar was desperately hoping he wouldn't screw up those hopes as he closed his eyes.

_**Road to your feet  
>Wind to your back<br>Sun to your face  
>Rain to your skin<br>Time be kind  
>Chief divine<br>and so we pray**_

* * *

><p>"Bishop Teito."<p>

Teito had faced many scary things in his life: he had escaped from the military, he had faced the wars, and he had even fought against Ayanami, but nothing could have prepared him for this very moment. It was the moment he had worked towards for two years, but suddenly when he had reached his goal, he found himself at a lost. His senses prodded at him, and the world of blurry shapes and colours sharpened into focus.

"Teito."

It was assistant-archbishop Castor. Teito felt something cold and hard being placed in his hands: his bishop pass. Castor smiled fondly at Teito before moving on to Ouida, not uttering another word.

What had been his purpose in becoming a bishop? Teito had only the vaguest of memories with what he had told the three of the seven ghosts, and even so he remembered his initial singing had been a moment of folly. Maybe folly wasn't the correct word – it was in a moment of desperation. He could remember the throb of anger and the seething veins of revenge that had pushed his forward then, but he still couldn't remember what he had been fighting for. It was as if he had been so involved in the process that he had forgotten his purpose.

_Would Saar be like me, forgetting his purpose when he reaches his goal?_ Teito registered an announcement, but it took a light push from Ouida and a mild scowl at his inattentiveness to send his legs a-scuttling. Mikage gave a squeal and clung to his robes. Mikage… _Mikage?_

_**Time be kind, Chief divine, and so we pray…**_

_Father,_ Teito asked, letting the lyrics float past his ears. He closed his eyes as he bowed before the archbishop to receive the benediction, praying hard that Father was listening. _Father, what should I do now?"_

* * *

><p>District 7.<p>

Konatsu had never considered the possibility of him visiting the church on non-official business. But this was family business, an entirely different league in his agenda. The path he had unsealed stretched out in front of him, ending right smack at the gates of the church.

"I'm guessing they blocked warsfeil magic," Konatsu muttered to himself. The bridge connecting the church to the main district was choked with people jostling to get into the holy week bazaar – there weren't as many trying to get out, if any at all.

"Excuse me, excuse me…" Konatsu apologised, his cloaked figure weaving through the dense traffic. Fortunately, he had gone back home to see himself prepared for this impromptu travel. The only things that identified him as nobility were his swords, hidden in their scabbards under his cloak. And his golden hair.

_Damn the hair,_ he had thought, and the rest of him was disguised under the shirt, pants and shoes of a commoner. Konatsu eyed the imperial guard warily, hoping that lady luck wouldn't be a bitch on him today. He had told himself the same things over and over again: _Walk normally, behave normally. You are here for personal business, not to cause any trouble. There's nothing to be afraid of… _Konatsu couldn't help buy squeeze his eyes as he approached the gateway, stepping one foot through the stone arch.

And he was in. No burn of magic, no crackle of fireworks and no hissing of fire. He was in, only now, the path had disappeared.

_Might as well enjoy the bazaar while looking out for him. Takeshi is pretty tall after all…_ Off he went, deep into the grounds of the church. He tried his best to suppress the feeling of caution and the wariness of his surroundings. He still couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, being followed. His left hand grabbed the hilt of his katana – the one Hyuuga had given to him – and felt his nerves settle.

"Welcome, _**welcome**_ sir!" Konatsu had nearly cut the merchant's head off. "Would you be interested in some of our wares?"

What was this, a marketplace? Konatsu realised he was still in the outer ring of shops. Perhaps such behaviour was acceptable in the fringes of the bazaar. What _was_ he thinking anyway?

"Shoes, shoes, all the shoes from the four corners of the kingdom!"

"Um, no thanks?" Konatsu shook his head and went on. He wasn't there to buy shoes, or to buy anything for any matter. He could still hear the merchant trying to convince him to buy his "exotic and beautiful wares". Konatsu just rolled his eyes and moved. After that jar incident, he didn't want to risk being scammed yet again.

The bazaar was an amazing place to be. The bishops most certainly sold interesting crafts: sugared flowers, puppets, fried meats… meats? Which bishop sold meat? Konatsu's curiosity took the better of him, peering past the line of people queuing up to purchase this popular item.

He wished he hadn't.

"Frau, it's almost time for the performances!" Konatsu very nearly fled at that voice. He had no doubts: that was the voice of Teito Klein, still a smooth, boyish voice but with a tinge of mature baritone in it. How long had it been since they last fought for Teito's being? Truth to be told, Konatsu missed Teito sorely. He was the only one who could handle paperwork properly. Seeing that boy made him want to hug the lad and burst into tears.

"Fine, you brat! Have it your way: you're a bishop now aren't you?" The crowd shifted, parting to allow a robe-laden Teito stumble out. "And don't be surprised if you come back here and I'm gone, disappeared from this world forever." That last statement had more than it's fair share of sarcasm to it. Konatsu let out a sigh, followed by a yell as someone crashed into him at full speed, sending him crashing to the ground.

"Whoops, sorry about that," an arm reached out to help Konatsu up, but the black hawk just scrambled to his feet. He looked up and his head shot back down again. It was Teito.

"It's fine, really." Konatsu kept his head low: he was just slightly taller than Teito. If anything, he didn't want to blow his cover when he had hardly spent the better part of the hour in the church.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, thanks." This conversation had lasted four sentences too many. He bowed quickly and brusquely, turning around and hastening off, making sure that Teito wasn't following him. Konatsu couldn't help but feel he was being all too paranoid. Who said Teito would recognise him? Who said that it would be a bad thing? After all, he wasn't doing anything wrong, and he had convinced himself earlier of that same fact. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that being a Black Hawk in itself brought too much trouble, even if you didn't ask for it. _Too close for comfort Konatsu._ He gritted his teeth, slowing down his pace as he came to a halt near the central fountain. Where could Takeshi be?

"Ladies and gentlemen, the show is about to start soon. If you wish to catch a glimpse of the talent we have here in the Barsburg church, head down to the main hall right now!"

The truth was that Konatsu never had the chance to go to anything like a bazaar in his entire life. For as long as he knew, he had lived in the military academy, studying, fighting, killing… but right now, the thing that terrified him the most was the press of the crowd, pushing Konatsu towards the massive doors of the main hall. He was in a position where he couldn't get out unless he killed the thousands of innocents around him. That was not an option: he couldn't cause trouble when Ayanami-sama had been kind enough to grant him leave, and he couldn't cause trouble when it was not on his job title.

"_So, Konatsu, Hyuuga tells me that you need to take leave for family issues?" Ayanami said. His stare was it's usual cold, distanced stare, but Konatsu thought he had heard a little bit of concern, even if it were only a hint._

"_Yes, Ayanami-sama," Konatsu replied._

"_I don't suppose you could tell me the nature of the issue?" That question was obviously a trick._

"_I can tell you if you need to know, sir."_

"_Go on."_

"_My step-brother has fled from the Warren household." That made Ayanami sit up in his chair. Not many things made Ayanami sit up and listen._

"_A member of the Warren family?"_

"_It's awkward to explain the situation from the beginning, but as I mentioned, he is my step-brother, sir."_

"_Is he someone I am aware of?"_

_Konatsu paused the conversation, making the pregnant silence even more obvious._

"_Takeshi Warren, sir."_

"_A warsfeil on the loose," Ayanami seemed to mutter, but Konatsu couldn't be sure. "Do you plan on finding him?"_

"_I hope so, sir."_

"_And how?"_

"_He gave me a tracking spell leading to him, sir."_

_And Ayanami suddenly looked convinced, happy even._

"_Well, I hope you find him then."_

_Konatsu, on the other hand, did not register. "Excuse me, sir?"_

"_It means: yes, you are cleared for your holy week, starting tomorrow."_

_Konatsu's face maintained it's bewildered state, but at least he understood._

"_Thank you, sir."_

"_And one last thing," Konatsu's hand barely reached the doorknob, but his body swivelled smartly around to face his commander. "Please tell Hyuuga to do his paperwork. I really can't have you stressing out all the time over his responsibilities, can I?"_

"And now for the next item. Last but not least, apprentice Saar will present us with the closing song."

How long had he been in that reverie? Apparently he had been magically ushered into a seat without even being aware of it, and nearly the entire concert had gone past without him registering a single act. Konatsu looked up to see the emcee usher a tall, muscled man onto the stage. His face was hidden under the apprentice hood and it remained that way. Konatsu's squinted as the man tilted his head up. He saw a flash of gold eyes and a shock of dark hair, but it wasn't until the first breath was drawn and the first verse was sung in that clear, pastoral voice did Konatsu realise who it was.

_**Bishop, bishop, tell me what you see.  
>What does my soul look like to thee?<br>Can it be saved so we can join the Chief?  
>Bishop, bishop, tell me what you see.<strong>_

_Takeshi?_

And Takeshi saw him too. For a moment the apprentice stood, baffled, jaw slightly ajar, pausing mid-way through the song. Konatsu continued to stare, making Takeshi the item of his fixation now. He had finally accomplished his goal, albeit quickly and by luck. Thankfully this hadn't all been in vain. Konatsu felt his head swim. He slowly let his subconscious shape his lips around the words of that song as Takeshi's breath took him into the next verse.

_**Warlock, warlock, tell me what you see.  
>What does my soul look like to thee?<br>Are you not going to steal it from me?  
>Warlock, warlock, tell me what you see.<strong>_

The song they sang so playfully, so often, as children of the warsfeil, the warlocks. Konatsu sat up straighter, humming the tune and following as Saar's voice carried across the hall.

_**Majesty, majesty, tell me what you see.  
>Is my soul just worthless to thee?<br>Take my body and let me be free.  
>Majesty, majesty, this is my plea.<strong>_

He was there.

Konatsu had found Takeshi.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry for this late and VERY RAW upload. I just graduated from basic military training and am making use of 1 week's worth of leave to pseudo-edit and cram out a lot of nonsense. I know nothing much happened in this chapter but I hope it didn't disappoint… too much… it's expected though. This chapter was written in longhand over the span of many months and shoddily edited in a day. It wasn't even beta-ed. So, sorry, once again.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * *

><p>Konatsu felt his body weave in and out of the crowd as he kept his gaze fixed on that tall, black-haired figure. He threatened to push people away as his weaving turned into squeezing. His calls of "Takeshi! Wait up!" were lost to the wind and the inane chatter and noise that filled the church courtyard with static, buzzing energy. He wasn't even sure if he could catch up.<p>

"Takeshi!"

Konatsu started to push, the gasps of people interspersed with "excuse me" and "sorry" as he rounded a corner. That black head still bobbed above the rest of the crowd. Konatsu pressed himself through like a fish navigating a sea of poisonous jellyfish, not willing to give up.

_It's been so long, Takeshi. Too long for me to give up just like this!_

Konatsu emerged from the other side of the crowd, panting not from exhaustion, but from the sheer claustrophobic conditions he had just endured. That was the last thing on his mind as he saw the figure float down a hallway, serene and uninterrupted. Konatsu continued to yell, following Takeshi down the corridor.

"Takeshi!"

_Are you deaf to my voice?_

And as if he had heard those very words, Takeshi stopped. Konatsu's footsteps were the only sounds that reverberated down the corridor as he ran towards that statue. His mind was filled with the memory of Takeshi: the childishly handsome boy, the smart one who knew all about the sciences, the one with the warsfeil magic but looked so sad when he was taught to use it. The Takeshi he knew had pearly laughter and a bright shining face that yearned for life.

Yet, he ran to face the Takeshi he just saw. It was him alright. His jaw was sharp, clenched tight, head dropped low, as if he had committed as sin. Takeshi's body was taller, darker, more muscular and seemingly ready to kill. He held something cold in his presence, something Konatsu didn't recognise. But his eyes were the same pair of golden irises that glowed in the faintest of light, eyes that were windows to a deceivingly beautiful soul, gentle like his mother's while taking on the noblesse of Konatsu's own father.

Konatsu tried to stare into Takeshi's eyes, but the man wouldn't return the gaze. The black hawk chose to embrace him anyway, stiff body and cold silence greeting him.

"I've finally found you after all these years, Takeshi," Konatsu whispered.

"I've found you too."

Konatsu's eyes widened as he threw himself back.

That wasn't Takeshi's voice.

"Who are you?!" Konatsu felt cheated. His swords appeared in a flash of metal and sunlight, but the not-Takeshi leapt forward to his suicide. Konatsu gave one last moment of hesitance, before feeling the slip and dash of the blade against flesh. The clattering of hollow wood made him release a breath he never knew he was holding.

He heard a breath of wind coming from behind.

"Who are you?"

"Who am I?" Came the cool reply. "Let me ask you the question first: what is the member of the notorious Black Hawks doing in a place like District Seven?"

"I asked the question first," Konatsu clenched his mouth tightly, feeling the anger rising within him yet again. "I don't have to tell you anything."

"Manners," came a chuckle, chiding the man.

"Speak for yourself!" Konatsu flew into a rage as he closed the distance between them in a blink of an eye, the shadow coming into full view as he saw the billowing robes of a bishop – which one he didn't know – and the reflection of sunlight in glass. Konatsu stabbed his katana straight for the centre of his enemy's mass, only to hear the resounding shatter of zaiphon that interlaced the room.

"I don't think so."

Konatsu sent a wave of white-hot rage through his sword as it lit up the hallway. He could see that face, that smiling, almost smirking face behind the rimless glasses that he wanted to punch so badly. One of the seven ghosts whose name he didn't know.

"So sorry, but you destroyed one of my puppets already. Can't have you trying to destroy me now, can you?"

_Puppet?_ The bishop wiggled his fingers as Konatsu caught sight of a shimmer of strings that connected to the dismembered puppet, looking so lifelike, yet so horribly dead and unanimated. The luminous white flame grew hotter as he focussed on the face, so close yet so far…

"Let me give you a chance at being civil," the bishop folded his arms across his chest. Konatsu didn't dare let his guard down, keeping his swords tightly gripped. "Answer my question and we're good: what are you doing here, sir?"

"I've already said it once." Konatsu's face darkened at the bishop's persistence. "It's none of your business." His knuckles turned bleached white and he could hear the crackling of his gritting teeth. "Civility is answering questions that have been posed to you first, before asking your own questions. Perhaps if you answered mine first then I wouldn't appear like such an uncouth barbarian to you, oh great bishop."

"Fine."

Konatsu couldn't believe his luck, but he didn't let it show. He couldn't let it show. He watched as the figure of the bishop relaxed, making the dismembered puppet relax in tandem. The flame around his blade grew a little larger.

"I am Assistant-Archbishop Castor of the Barsburg Church. I'll even be so kind as to tell you that I drew you into this… sacred hallway," Castor gesticulated, trying to punctuate the silence with some form of exasperation that almost failed to humour Konatsu, "for the sole purpose of protecting the public during Holy Week celebrations.

"Now, your turn."

"I'm here looking for someone." Konatsu didn't say who. If the Assistant Archbishop person was as good as he made himself out to be, he'd probably know who Konatsu was talking about anyway.

Three seconds of silence passed.

"But why my apprentice? Who is he to you?" Konatsu didn't know if Castor was trying to stretch him, or pull information out of his ass. He could feel his shoulders tense: he didn't like this and could see where the bishop was going with his line of questioning. On the other hand, this might be the opportunity he needed to find out where the real Takeshi was.

"He's family," he said, curt and simple. He attempted to fold his arms until he realised that he was still grabbing onto his swords. "He's family," came the murmur a second time.

"Family?"

That was the last thing that Konatsu heard before the doors burst open and the wind whipped itself around his cloak, pulling him into a stone like stance that kept him to the ground, but rendering him effectively defenceless.

"Castor!"

_That bishop._ He didn't have to see him to know who he was. That was the voice of the blonde, the one with Ayanami's scythe, the one who cuts soul ties apart.

"Frau, wait!"

Castor's warning came too late as Konatsu heard the scream of his blades against something more sinister. He opened his eyes and found himself face-to-face with the huge, black monstrosity that was merely a legend among the ranks of the Black Hawks.

Now, he was bearing witness to the greatness of Verloren's scythe.

It was a fair parry though, and the bishop seemed to recognise it, pushing off of Konatsu as he struggled to regain his stance, the white fire of rage starting up around his blades again. He could feel his breaths grow heavy and his fingers bleed, but he didn't care. Konatsu had enough of this playing around. The bishops would stop at nothing to manipulate him, play him like a toy, a child. Konatsu felt something surge within him.

Anger.

"So that's how you distract me, buying time to ask me about my legitimate business while planning to play unfair since the start?" His voice was no longer calm and composed, and some of that noblesse had drifted away. "Calling the four ghosts of the church against one innocent man…"

"No, it's not like that."

"Then **tell me what it looks like, dammit!**" Konatsu scanned Castor's eyes for any signs of remorse, any genuine interest in his business and anything that indicated he didn't want to start a fight, but the bishop was frozen there, face expressionless, fingers at the ready with a thousand spun threads drifting in the wind.

_Takeshi, where are you?_

Konatsu decided that if he didn't do anything, he would die, either by spending his life on this stare match or at the hands of more dirty play. He did what he thought was the best idea at the time.

Konatsu ran for his life.

It wouldn't take long for them to catch up: Konatsu knew he was fast, but he was human for crying out loud. They were four of the seven ghosts. He could hear the footsteps get uncomfortably close as he turned his head for a moment. That annoying blonde bishop with the scythe was almost right beside him. The man with _the_ scythe… what was he thinking? Konatsu breathed, throwing a wall of zaiphon at the four bishops. He could hear the crunch and cracks of energy against their weapons – scythe, puppets, flowers and baculus – while he continued to run.

Was his goal of finding Takeshi worth risking his own life for?

Konatsu kept running. He didn't know where he was, nor did he hear the continuous patter of feet or feel the gusts of wind from their unnatural speed. He kept turning to look, but it was as though they had given up on him. But he just kept moving: he was afraid that they were setting him up for an ambush, and that fear pushed him to move until he came across the first door he encountered.

_Might as well get even more lost than I am now,_ Konatsu thought rather grimly. The huge double doors seemed to open too easily, too invitingly to be comfortable. They shut just as easily but surprisingly, they didn't click themselves locked. Konatsu was the one who made sure the doors were locked. His katana clattered to the ground, his body sliding against the solid mahogany. Konatsu buried his face in his hands: this had been nothing but an innocent journey to look for Takeshi, but the only thing that he found was something he had sworn to avoid at all costs: trouble. It came in shitloads, and Konatsu hadn't betted on having to deal with these shitloads of trouble.

He took in his surroundings: he was on one of many bridges that crisscrossed through the air, suspended several feet over nothingness. Konatsu tried to peer over the edge, but it was too dark to see what lurked at the bottom. His body slumped further down, and he could feel the creases in his cloak bunching up against his body.

"Takeshi," he whispered to no one in particular. "Takeshi, I know I saw you singing: I heard you, not that stupid puppet thing." He treated each word like a sacred prayer, each syllable bounding clearly off the bridges and walls to echo off at him.

"Takeshi, where are you?"

Out in the corner of his eye he could see them – one, two, three and four. Perhaps he should just give up and surrender: maybe they'd imprison him and Takeshi would know of it. But what were his chances? They already knew he was a black hawk and would probably rather kill him off than have Ayanami-sama and – good heavens, no – Hyuuga-san come for him.

Konatsu stood on his feet. He had to stop running. Clenching both his katanas he flung himself forward with a suicidal roar.

He had to find Takeshi.

He had to fight.

* * *

><p><em>Teito?<em>

He heard it. The newly-convoked bishop stroked Mikage gently, scratching the soft mound of fur under his chin. It sounded like a crash of wills, something big but not anything that they could physically feel. Mikage whimpered.

"Shh, Mikage," Ouida turned at the sound of Teito's voice. "I heard it, but I don't know what it is."

"Heard what, Teito-san?" Liam piped in. The small, pink-haired boy bounced around with a stick of cotton candy in one hand and a toffee apple in the other. It had been two years, but it was as though the boy had never grown from his dear ten-year old self. Ouida just messed his brother's hair affectionately.

"Nothing, Liam." Teito tried to smile back, and Liam seemed satisfied with the answer. _Since when did lying become so hard?_

It was his third year in the church, and his third attendance at the Holy Week bazaar. It was the same, and Teito thought he should be getting tired of it, but he still held the same sense of excitement that was tingling down his spine. Some shops were still the same year after year – Frau's winkelhobb, Castor's puppets and Labrador's floral delicacies, but each year the vendors brought in something new, something exciting from beyond the reach of District Seven.

Come to think about it, he never did see Lance sell anything last year during the Holy Week festivities.

_Fortunes._ Mikage spoke to Teito. _Lance sells amulets to protect people and give them good luck._

"Shouldn't they be free? Aren't blessings free?"

_Human nature wants everything that benefits them, even if it comes at a price. Money is a small price for protection and convenience._

"True," Teito muttered. Maybe he should patronise Lance's stall to get a small something for Saar: a small thank you gift for contributing to their training. It had been a very tangible act of contribution, and Teito didn't doubt that without help, Ouida and himself would still be wandering the bazaar in their apprentice robes.

"Ouida, what about getting something for Saar?"

"For who?"

Teito's eyes looked at Ouida, but the fellow bishop was as puzzled as he was. "I didn't say anything."

"But I did."

Teito scanned the crowd, turning on his heel as he caught sight of a golden-haired man, his legs almost giving out beneath him in surprise.

"Long time no see, _bishop_ Teito Klein."

Hakuren grinned playfully, but Teito barely caught a glimpse of his blonde hair and pale purple eyes before his vision moved onto the girl that was standing meekly behind him. She was dressed modestly, no older than himself, a black fyulong child perched delicately on her shoulder.

"Hakuren? Ouka?"

"Yes, Teito Klein!" Hakuren yelled as Teito noticed the baculus aimed for his face. His body jerked back into reality, an arm extending to block the staff as his legs moved to steady himself against the blow. He caught it in midair. "Teito Klein! Are you quite awake now? You look like you just rolled out of bed!"

"Stop disturbing him, Hakuren," Ouka chided her tutor. Ouida stood beside her with his greetings for Hakuren, but bowed at the Princess. "And stop bowing, bishop. I'm not here on royal business." An admirable blush came to her cheeks as Ouida apologised.

And surprisingly, that was that. Liam and Ouka were magnetic to each other, she amused by his childish demeanour and he impressed by her presence, pulling her along the rows of shops in a manner which she couldn't refuse. Teito stood next to Hakuren, listening in on the conversation he was having with Ouida. Something in the back of his mind kept him from speaking with Hakuren, as if he were afraid something wrong might slip from his tongue that would spoil the moment, so he kept quiet.

They glanced through and stopped at each stall in their small party of five. Teito felt a sense of discovery and inquisitiveness at every new skill, every new article he saw. There were iridescent fish in the most saturated of hues, swimming in tanks of sparkling clear water. Ouka bought some rice dumplings that were browned until they were shatteringly crispy on the outside and delicately soft and chewy inside, filled with a sweet and salty bean paste.

It was so good, she made every one of them try one. The chef was a very happy man.

There was hot, savoury vegetable broth and hair-thin glass noodles that slid off their chopsticks. In another stall, the five of them stood mesmerised, watching an old lady hunch over her deathly contraption of a loom as she moved her hands deftly, shuttling threads with an audible click-clack rhythm. It hypnotised them into quiet observance, Liam included. Teito felt she was the human incarnation of Castor in terms of skill, watching as the unidentifiable strings wove themselves into a square silk shawl of Zehel and his scythe.

"How much is that?"

The words just tumbled out of his mouth. All of a sudden it seemed a much better gift than Lance's stupid amulets, though when he came to the said bishop's store he couldn't help but gravitate towards a dark, black gem that refused to sparkle even in the midday sun.

_Keeps misfortune at bay._

And though the shop was bustling with customers, Teito could not hear or see Lance at all.

"So, Teito," Hakuren suddenly piped up, making the change in Teito's hand jump from him to the stall attendant. "Tell me about Castor's new apprentice. Is he as good-looking as me?"

"Don't make me laugh Hakuren," Teito deadpanned as he turned around. "He's way out of your league." But the grin was already half formed as the both of them walked out. Teito told him how Castor had been promoted to Assistant Archbishop, and how he had taken on the warsfeil as his new apprentice, the first since Hakuren's departure.

"He came here of his own free will?" Ouka sounded surprised, a tinge of disbelief clouding her voice.

"I'd like to meet him, see what kind of person he is. For a warsfeil to want to serve in the church…"

"What I don't get," Teito continued to move through the rows of shops, "is that he came here with so much conviction, but it's as if he lost it all in a matter of days, like as though he never knew what it was that brought him here.

"I don't even know why he stays."

They had walked halfway around the fair, passing by Labrador's shop of candied flowers. The bishop wasn't in. Frau's winkelhobb store was empty, and even Castor's stall was left unattended, his beloved dolls accompanied only by an animated sister doll.

"Where is everybody?" Hakuren pouted. "I was looking forward to seeing Castor…"

"Teito, who is that?" Ouka pointed to a tall, black-haired figure amongst the crowd. People walked past him in droves, obscuring Teito's vision. Finally, a window of space opened and Teito could see who Ouka was pointing to. "Teito, he's dangerous."

Teito knew what she meant. Saar looked so lonely, so isolated, like when he had first arrived in the church. Even with Saar's own powers of restraint, Teito could never really shake off the dense, black mist that emanated from his being. Even as the bishop had learnt how to disregard it, he knew that it was a shadow of Verloren, nothing less, something that came along with bring born under the curse of the warsfeil. Teito tried his best to think of a way of explaining this to Ouka, but Hakuren beat him to it.

"That's the warsfeil, isn't it?"

"He's a warsfeil Hakuren," Teito felt some sense of resentment towards Hakuren's condescending tone welling up within his chest, forcing it out in his words as he intoned a little sharper than usual. "He has a name." Teito took a step forward.

A scream pierced through the muggy midday air. It did not hurt their souls like the sound of someone getting hurt, nor did it crush their skulls from its sheer density. The sound just floated above their heads as the crowds looked up to the sun above, wondering where the voice came from, before starting to move again, the sea of people melting back into motion like nothing had ever happened.

"Saar!"

Teito dashed to the warsfeil as he dropped to his knees, clutching his head in pain.

"Saar!"

"_Cry for the calling of angels."_

Teito knelt down beside Saar, laying his hands on Saar as the other five surrounded him, trying to hear what it was that he was saying.

"What's wrong with him, Teito?"

"Is he alright?"

"Saar-sama!"

"Saar, are you okay?"

Teito didn't hear their concerns. He reached into his soul, watching as the bright red jewel of the eye rose on the back of his palm.

"_Cry for the deaths of the fallen."_

It was the language of Raggs. He knew it. Teito could feel the inflections and lilts of pain and torment in Saar's words, spoken and sung like a native.

_**Master?**_

_I need to see into his soul, Mikhail._

_**I cannot allow you to do that, Master. You will run the risk of becoming tainted.**_

_This warsfeil will not allow it._

_**It is not his choice to allow you to be tainted or not if you touch his soul, master.**_

_I am begging you, Mikhail. Let me help my friend._

_**If he is my master's friend, I will oblige.**_

Teito felt himself thrown into somewhere dark, someplace that stank of tar and sulphur. He landed in the midst of blackness, on a small island of white.

_**Master, this is his soul.**_

"But where is he, Mikhail?"

Teito caught sight of movement from the corner of his eye. He felt his hands buzz with energy, but instead of lines of zaiphon he could feel the warmth of light emanating from his palms. The desolate landscape was no longer silent.

"I said to stop it!"

Saar's voice was monotonous, but Teito could see him struggling against someone, standing at the edge of the island as he struggled against the pull of one person mired deep in the pitch black of his world.

"You've got to respond to the call, Saar."

"Let me respond in my own way!"

Teito stepped closer, his feet sending shockwaves even as he treaded lightly, making the figures pause their fighting. Saar turned around, his eyes wide with panic as he ran toward the bishop.

"Teito, get out of here, now!"

He could just see the dark figure emerge from the shadows, stepping one blackened foot onto the island as it looked up at Teito. The red eyes pierced through him, fanged mouth hissing. But beneath the aggression he could see the sharp jaw, the same beautiful eyes and the same built figure that stood under the shroud.

It was Saar.

Suddenly he opened his eyes.

_**Master, he threw us back out.**_

_I know, Mikhail._

But now the light was coming out of his physical hands, enveloping Saar as the man continued to whimper from the screech in the air. He was healing Saar from something he couldn't understand, something that was happening within his psyche. But there was something that shook him at the realisation that he had been rejected from Saar's soul.

Saar still didn't trust him.

"He's here!"

Teito fell backwards as Saar suddenly stood and ran, busting through the crowd with not a shred of consideration. So odd, so unlike the gentle giant. Teito sat on the ground, stunned, not even calling out to the warsfeil as he watched the silhouette disappear behind the crowd, not knowing whether to get up and run or sit there and continue watching.

"Teito, let him be."

Ouida stretched out a hand.

"I hope you're right, Ouida," Teito said. "I don't want anything to happen to him." _Not now, not ever._

_Not until you show him the light, Teito,_ Mikage whispered to him all of a sudden. _Until then, he will never change._

_But why didn't I instinctively do it like how I did for Ouka?_ Teito sighed, drawing Ouida's attention. _And it's not just about change though,_ _I just don't want him to get hurt. _Teito continued to walk beside a silent Ouida back to where Hakuren, Ouka and Liam stood, shell-shocked by the sequence of events that happened with split second occurrence.

_Everyone gets hurt sooner or later, Teito. It's inevitable._

Teito sighed and patted Mikage, stroking the fyulong as he felt his forehead tense with worry.

_I just don't want to lose another friend._

* * *

><p>Castor stood there, silent, unmoving.<p>

"Frau, you stupid, insolent noodleneck."

His eyes watched the black figure of Frau chase after the black hawk. Frau was the only one attacking. Castor had asked Labrador and Lance to stand down, to watch and observe the outcome. There was no way a lone black hawk could defeat one of the seven ghosts, not with the lack of experience that this man had.

_If it was Hyuuga, on the other hand…_

Castor breathed in the mild scent of flowers that Labrador carried around with him, trying to get his body to relax. The conversation with the intruder had been going on smoothly. Castor had even been genuinely surprised at his answer – that Saar was family.

And now, so many questions were bouncing off inside his head. Was Saar the son of a noble? Which family did he belong to? Did they force him to be a warsfeil? Who is Saar to this man, a black hawk, that he would rather die finding him than save his own life and flee?

He wished he had denied the black hawk's allegations of calling for reinforcements, for tricking him into buying time. He wished he had sat the man down and said "no, I didn't ask those questions to buy time. I did it because I genuinely wanted to know how you are related to Saar, and why you even bothered to come all the way to District Seven on your own to meet him." But he didn't. Castor didn't know how to summon the determination – the blind courage that Frau had so much of – to shake this black hawk into realising that there was such a thing as genuine kindness in this world.

He watched as a slice of fury swept towards the three of them, burning protective vines that Labrador put up at the last second to soot and ashes.

"He wants us to fight, Castor," Labrador whispered.

"I know," he pushed his glasses, whipping his zaiphon into action.

"He can't win against four of us. He knows that," Lance said, layering his words thick with scepticism.

"A fight he wants, a fight he shall get." Castor shook his head.

_Foolish boy, turn back. Turn back for your sake, for your worthless life in servitude to Verloren._

_Turn back._

* * *

><p>Konatsu found himself panting. He was sweeping his katana back and forth, trying for the life of him to land a blow on any one of them, to somehow incapacitate them one by one so that the odds will slowly turn in his favour. No such thing for him. He winced as a string of zaiphon lashed out, narrowly missing his ear and screaming past onto the ceiling above.<p>

"I'm still giving you a chance to surrender," Castor called from above, standing still as a rock.

"Surrendering stopped being an option when he tried to chop my head off," Konatsu yelled as Frau slammed into him, blade against scythe. He could hear the growling, snapping of the spirit within the offending weapon, sending a shiver down his spine as he pushed off with a grunt of effort, only to face a lavender-haired bishop, the one who nearly killed Haruse.

"I know what you're trying to do," Labrador whispered, vines creeping around his feet. "And I know the future can be prevented. I will not allow you to do what you set out to carry out."

"That's a bit obvious, isn't it?" Konatsu chuckled to himself, slicing through the foliage, but still feeling something wrap around his legs. He jumped, smashing into the bridge with as much force as he could to send the plants pummelling into the water beneath. He got a foothold on the wall, before a stream of zaiphon screamed towards him, threatening to slice him apart. Konatsu jumped and the zaiphon screeched to a halt, changing course and homing onto him while netting the area, ensuring that if he landed on those paths of energy, he would become nothing but a pile of minced meat.

_Takeshi, help me,_ he wanted to cry out as the zaiphon skimmed his cheek. He could feel the searing pain and see the red that smothered his hand when he pressed it to the wound. _Takeshi, by my blood I swore to find you. I'm asking you to come, Takeshi._

And suddenly, the room was filled with the piercing noise of a thousand chimes. Frau stopped dead in his tracks from where he was approaching Konatsu.

"What's that?"

"I don't know, but it doesn't sound good," Lance muttered, focussing his attention back to Konatsu. "Castor, can you just stop holding back? It's getting tiring and it doesn't help my hair."

Konatsu tried to read the Assistant Archbishop's face. His dressing was much more severe, much more formal with the blue collar and golden cross draped around his neck, like a choker of responsibility. That responsibility now played across his face, to lead his fellow bishops into the fight, or to pull them away. His face was a blank slate, but the swordsman could see his eyes shifting left and right, thinking thoughts that could only be heard by a god.

"Castor!" Frau groaned in exasperation at the bishop's slowness, gritting his teeth as he threw himself towards Konatsu. The screech of metal dulling metals coursed through his veins, but this time there was a tinge of desperation and a bit of his will to live that pumped into his blood. "Castor, bloody make up your mind! Stop standing there like a doll!"

Konatsu saw a web of shining threads interlace between the golden-haired bishop and himself, throwing him off Frau's momentum. Konatsu landed on the bridge with a dull thud as his breath was forced out of him, katana clanging on the bridge in protest of his inelegant landing. He could hear Frau cuss from a stone's throw away, but not before he saw Castor loom over him. He tried to lift his arms and roll away from the vice-archbishop, but his body was frozen, stuck to the ground, tied to taut strings that imprisoned him.

"The game is up, Black Hawk," Castor spoke, but Konatsu couldn't sense any conviction in Castor's voice. He didn't know if the Assistant Archbishop was trying to play with him all this while or whether he was pressured into ending this by the other three. It was the kind of thing that was said just for the sake of saying it. He tried to flick his Katana over the lines of zaiphon, to move his wrist and summon a string of energy that would break the chains.

Nothing. His fingers could not even twitch. His eyes could barely move. He thought he heard a door open and the screech of footsteps, but he could not be sure.

"Bishop Castor!"

That voice... Konatsu's eyes widened and the air suddenly seemed to freeze.

"Saar? Were you looking for me?"

"Takeshi!" Konatsu cried out from the ground. "Takeshi, it's me, Konatsu!"

His eyes darted around the room, trying to see if there was any response.

"Konatsu, why are you on the ground? Are you okay?"

"Don't go near him, Saar," he heard Castor say quietly. "He's dangerous."

"He's family."

The next few minutes passed in a blur. Konatsu's head was in a whirl as the net of zaiphon pressed against his throat, like a cold hard hand choking him slowly. He could barely keep up as he heard frantic dialogue between Saar and Castor swimming in the darkness that slowly set in. Frau joined in the fray, but he wasn't sure when. There was a lot of yelling, a lot of threats, and once he could even hear the sound of zaiphon smashing against zaiphon.

"Calm down, Saar," he could hear a calm voice speaking. Konatsu clung onto his consciousness, refusing to let himself black out as he took in all the breath he could muster.

It was then a roar and a searing blast of heat that made Konatsu's eyes water. It came from nowhere, heat flying past him and slowly crackling with a vengeance that threatened to kill. He could hear the shouts of the four bishops, but other than the heat, the only thing he could feel was the numbness in his arms as he lifted them to wipe the sweat off his face.

He could move.

Konatsu stumbled on his feet as he forced his eyes open. The chamber was a mess of anarchy and chaos. The bridge he stood upon was on fire, burning bright and... black? He made sure to blink twice, still feeling the heat radiate towards him in waves that threatened to sweep him off his feet and sear his skin to a crisp. The shouting came from below in the water. Two of the bishops were on fire, and the water sizzled at the heat of the flames that would not extinguish. This wasn't an ordinary fire. Looking back up, he could see Takeshi.

"Takeshi!"

Konatsu ran up to the man, shaking him. He felt the weight of the body slam into him as the kneeling Saar collapsed onto Konatsu.

"Takeshi! We've got to get out of here!"

"Yes you do, Konatsu."

Konatsu looked up to see Hyuuga staring from a hawkzile, smiling at him.

"Hyuuga -"

"Looks like you need a little help, don't you?" Hyuuga grinned as a second hawkzile flew in from the doorway. Konatsu didn't question. He pulled the unconscious Takeshi – Saar, whatever those bishops called him – onto the hawkzile and pulled off before he could sit down. His eyes wandered to the burning figures as the vehicle flew out the hole in the window that Hyuuga had made, not taking his eyes off the four bishops that seemed like ants, destined for death. It could have been him there, burning with them in those unearthly flames. He felt himself shiver.

"Hyuuga-san…"

"You can tell me about it later on, Konatsu." Hyuuga flew up next to his Begleiter, giving a reassuring pat on the shoulder. The scenes of the bazaar and the smoke that began pouring out of the church slowly disappeared behind the clouds that flew past them. "I'm quite sure a lot of things happened while you were on leave that you want to inform me about." He was all smiles, not a hint of anger showing in that jovial voice of his. Konatsu could only sigh as District Seven slowly disappeared behind him.

_I've finally found you, Takeshi._

* * *

><p>AN: First up, holy shit! It took me a good two months to write and edit this chapter (though editing took all of a week. It's 3am now and the only reason why I'm awake is because I told myself I must not disappoint my loyal readers). There were two main contributing factors: one being my writing of this chapter on paper in coded English (thus taking some time to decode and transcribe), another being my perpetual fear of substandard writing. I still feel that this chapter is a bit too forced, but the plot is beginning to turn. I'm not sure if it's too early though… maybe this fic will end by 20 chapters, looking at it, or even less. Again, I didn't send it for beta-ing, so please forgive me and point out any mistakes by leaving a review! Even if there are no mistakes, I'd love to receive mail saying someone's reviewed my fic, so please do! Thank you for reading, and hopefully chapter 8 won't take 2 months.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

* * *

><p>"Who am I?"<p>

Saar – Takeshi – could barely see his fingers in the pitch-black darkness. Or maybe he couldn't even see himself at all, but he was just visualising what was there of himself in his mind, imagining things. He might not even exist.

"So what's my name?"

He felt his arms spread, swimming out, trying to propel him through the vast nothingness with the strength he knew he had, but he could see nothing, even when he turned his head around and around so many times he felt like he was going to vomit. There was nothing to see and nothing to be seen.

"So what's my name?"

_Moloch, Guardian of Hellfire._

The voice filled his head so fully, he felt like it filled the space, but he did not feel his eardrums shatter or his hands tremble.

"But… Am I not Takeshi Warren?"

_That is for the mortals to call you._

And suddenly he realised that the blackness was moving, pinpoints of bright blue could be seen like stars in the night sky, only that they quavered and danced without a twinkle. He reached out to touch one of them, but he could not reach it.

_This is the hell fire that you keep. Judge fairly with it, for it is your duty._

And suddenly the world burst into white.

"Takeshi!"

He shot out into stark brightness, squinting and covering his eyes with a grunt. A lithe shadow moved to block it out, but the warsfeil continued to keep his eyes no larger than slits.

"Who…"

"Takeshi!" The voice rang in his head, echoing through the virtual cavern that was his mind as he tried to recall who that voice belonged to. He tried to pull up faces from the depths of his memory, but nothing came to mind, not until the figure pulled the dimmers over the windows and he caught a flash of golden hair and an equally brilliant pair of eyes staring at him.

"Konatsu?"

"You're awake!" He came closer and Takeshi could see him better now. The young man was dressed in his military uniform, the one he always came home in for Holy Week celebrations back then. But something was different about the uniform, and the more he stared, the more it unsettled him. His staring and the silence of the room was met with Konatsu shifting his weight between his two feet. "Do you feel alright?"

"Should I be feeling otherwise?" Takeshi tried to sound as surprised as he was, and couldn't help but baulk at his deadpanning. "I'm sorry, I didn't intend to sound sarcastic." Again, his voice was nothing but monotonous, and he tried to cough whatever it was out.

"The doctors said you might feel disoriented and experience some nausea if you wake up," Konatsu sat in a chair Takeshi hadn't noticed was there.

"I don't even know what happened to me Konatsu," Takeshi breathed. "I don't even know where I am."

"You're in District 1."

Konatsu must have seen Takeshi shiver at the mention of the location. He put a hand on the warsfeil's shoulder, feeling the coldness of his unclothed body.

"Don't worry, they won't come after you. In fact, the elders never did anything after… after that incident." Konatsu bowed his head. Takeshi could remember that incident as clear as day. It was the turning point in his life, made him break apart from the Warren house altogether, for the sake of his life and for the sake of others. He breathed out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Konatsu handed Takeshi a glass of water. "Here, take a drink. You've been out for too many days."

"Days?" The glass shattered as Konatsu yelled. Takeshi looked down and realised that his hand was pierced with thick shards and dripping with red. He hadn't realised the extend of his own strength. Konatsu was at his bedside, talking on the phone.

"I need medical attention immediately… yes, he broke the glass… yes, thank you."

"I'm sorry Konatsu," Takeshi let his hand fall back onto the bloodstained sheets, gazing blankly at the patches, dark with water and his stupidity. "I don't know what is happening. I can't remember so much, and I don't know if I'm supposed to remember anything at all." He watched as nurses entered the room and suddenly he felt too conspicuous for his own good, reaching to grab the sheets until he felt something press deeper into his hand. Takeshi let out a growl, both at the pain and at his own stupidity as he felt his eyes tear at the dull pain that was getting sharper by the second.

"It's alright Takeshi, let them settle it," Konatsu sat and watched the nurses. Takeshi started to ask questions: what was that they were spraying out of the airbrush? A mix of anaesthesia and antiseptic. How long would the wounds take to heal? With the new bandages, not more than a week. Otherwise, usually three. What were in the new bandages? As the questions went on and on Takeshi heard Konatsu let out a chuckle.

"What?"

"Nothing," he laughed more openly now. "It's just so like you to ask questions about everything. I would've thought you'd grown out of it, but it's still such a part of you… the Takeshi I haven't seen in so long…" Konatsu looked to the floor with a smile, and suddenly Takeshi didn't know if he should be asking anymore questions. Luckily for him, the nurses had finished bandaging his hand. A housemaid had come in the middle of the dressing and cleared the glass shards, and the three ladies left the room, with Konatsu telling the housemaid to come change the sheets later in the day.

As the door clicked shut Takeshi mustered the courage to ask another question.

"So, what happens now?"

He half expected Konatsu to punch him in the gut and whack him on the head with a chair out of frustration and some other mix of emotion. But he just walked to a closet and pulled out a uniform, exactly the same as Konatsu's own, but fitted to Takeshi's body as he laid it out on the bed, careful to avoid the splotches of red. "It depends on whether or not you feel inspired enough to get out of bed today."

"Please, anything but the bed," Takeshi moved to slide out of the sheets until he realised that he was in nothing but a pair of shorts. He eyed Konatsu wearily and the soldier responded by moving discreetly towards the door.

"Just call me when you're done, I'll be waiting outside."

And Takeshi was left sitting in his bed, staring at the uniform. He didn't know what to do in this unfamiliar environment, not when he had not a semblance of what his schedule was supposed to be like, what he was supposed to do and where he was supposed to be.

He found a mirror and took a look at himself: bleary-eyed, messy-haired, bleeding hand. The hunt for the shower was not as difficult as looking at himself – soap-up, face wash, shampoo and rinse, all labelled clearly for him with instructions on the back. He could only remember a time where he had but a bar of soap to clean himself back then. The toothbrush was too soft for his liking, but that was the only toothbrush he could find.

"Agh, my clothes," he muttered to himself as he absentmindedly wrapped the towel around his waist, tiptoeing across the icy floor towards the wardrobe. He gently pulled the wardrobe door open, half afraid that he might yank it off its hinges. What greeted him was row upon row of navy blue uniforms, He glanced at the bed and sighed.

"Are you alright?" He heard the voice coming from the other side of the door.

"I'm fine, but isn't there anything else to wear?" Takeshi sat on the bed with a grunt as he pulled the pants on, stuff that was too fine for him to wear, probably too expensive for him to pay for it in his lifetime. It slipped on like silk but was formal and rigid. He was surprised that everything was tailored to his size.

"You're a soldier in the Barsburg army, what else do you want to wear?"

"Anything but uniforms," he gave his answer half-heartedly, buttoning up the shirt and pulling the boots on. "It feel so odd."

"So you really don't remember anything, huh?" Konatsu's voice was softer, less interrogative. Takeshi shook his head. He shouldn't be judging Konatsu by his tone, since he probably just looking out for Takeshi rather than being bossy.

"I don't." It came out almost as a whisper. He looked at the cloak, hesitating before he slipped into it, fitting like a glove. "You can come in now."

He saw Konatsu approach in the mirror and was surprised at how he looked. For once, he wasn't the poorly-kept, world-wandering person he used to be. He couldn't remember when he had enlisted in the army, but the uniform definitely made him look taller than he already was. His half-brother rapped his knuckles on the side of Takeshi's head.

"You forgot your rank and division pin, sir."

"Rank?" Konatsu made him keep still as he buckled two epaulettes of shimmering gold thorns on black, before pinning on a badge of black and gold, shaped as a bird that Takeshi couldn't identify. "Why don't you have a rank?"

"I'll have one soon enough," Konatsu pouted. "Next week. Hyuuga-sama is going to pester them for my promotion. It's long overdue."

"Hyuuga?

"Yeeeees! I heard my name?" Takeshi spun around and froze. He was facing a lack-haired bespectacled man he did not realise had entered his room. He had a smile plastered onto his face that was no more than a slit above his chin and looked pleasant enough, though in the shock of it all Takeshi took five seconds before he realise his hand had flown to his head in salute.

"Good morning, Sir."

"Ehh, Konatsu, haven't you told him to drop the formalities?" Hyuuga waved a hand, dismissing Takeshi's greeting with a laugh. "Good morning to you too! But it's all right, I just wanted to see how good your morning really is. Konatsu has been fretting over you, hmm?" He placed a hand and ruffled the blonde's hair affectionately as Konatsu gave a grunt of disapproval, still keeping his hands by his side. Takeshi looked away for a second, and suddenly that smile seemed to straighten out a little. "But really, how are you?"

"I'm feeling fine sir, though I have absolutely no idea what happened to me, or anything relating to my recent past, in the military at least. Would you like a seat?"

"Sorry, introductions are in order," Konatsu cut in crisply. Takeshi blinked. Typical Konatsu down-to-business behaviour. "This is Major Hyuuga, probably soon to be Lieutenant-Colonel. He's my direct superior, and I am his Beglietier… his slave, in a sense." Konatsu broke the serious face with a peek of his tongue as Hyuuga protested.

"As for what happened…" Konatsu looked to Hyuuga for a moment. Takeshi saw the older man nodding, waving his hands lackadaisically as he grabbed a chair from the dresser. "The gist is that you were sent for a mission beyond your training and expertise to assess your potential. You were struck out by an overwhelming enemy force nearing the end of the objective. Hyuuga-sama was the one who initiated the rescue mission to find you, and when we did, you were unconscious."

Takeshi mulled silently on this. He really could not remember anything about a mission, or even being part of the Barsburg army. His gloved fingers ran across the golden snake insignia set in his uniform, feeling his hand swing to cross over his heart and his knees buckle to a kneel.

"I am indebted to you, sir." He didn't know what he was doing, yet his body was moving, reacting to everything on instinct, as if he knew a code of conduct and the appropriate civilities, whether correct or not. His uniform hugged him in assertion of his actions as he twisted around in the snug fabric, staring at the blank floor tils.

"Aah, get up please~!" Hyuuga waved his hands. "Of course, you got something out of the mission. A ton of experience, if you ask me. And these." Takeshi looked up to see Hyuuga hand him two hard, new epaulettes in between his gloves. He traced the golden thorns, thinner and more ornate, set on a red background. "Congratulations, Captain Warren."

The world spun again. Takeshi felt his feet give out under him but he barely felt the floor touch his legs as a pair of hands wrap under his back.

"I don't think he's ready to see Ayanami like this, Konatsu," Hyuuga pouted. Konatsu worked to sit Takeshi gently on the floor like this. "Fainting at the news of his promotion. I think the doctors lied about his condition, or there's something they didn't tell us about."

"No, I'm fine," Takeshi put a hand out in protest. "Who is Ayanami?" Hyuuga turned to look at his beglietier.

"He's the field marshal of the Barsburg Army."

"Ah, pardon my manners then," Takeshi muttered. The truth was that he could hardly feel his legs, and his head was still swimming as he forced himself to focus on Konatsu's two glimmering, golden eyes. Field marshal… what could such an obscenely high-ranked officer want to do with him? Konatsu watched him as he tried to move his legs.

"You are a member of the Black Hawks after all, and Ayanami-sama is in charge of us," Konatsu nodded to the black and gold badge of a bird – a hawk, Takeshi now knew – pinned on his lapel while he pulled Takeshi to his feet, making sure he didn't fall as he wobbled slightly. "He told us to bring you to his office as soon as you are ready." Takeshi knew it was a question that went unstated.

"I'm okay, I'm okay…" he muttered. He could feel a tremble in his voice. Hyuuga just laughed and patted him on the back.

"Don't be so scared, young man! Ayanami-san is the best commander you could ever wish for!" He found himself in a corridor, walking through a blur as Takeshi tried to keep up with their brisk pace. "He may seem stern and cold, but inside he's just a big softie. Don't be fooled by a book's cover, that's what they all say~!"

"I hope you're right sir," Takeshi said, breathing deeper. It seemed to be the only thing that calmed the churning of his stomach and the bile that threatened to spill out of his mouth. Ayanami was a name that he couldn't remember hearing before, but yet he could feel a buzzing noise that resounded within the cavities of his mind. The only thing he could do was worry as Konatsu opened the door, leaving him to enter the room alone.

* * *

><p>"Stop walking so fast, Frau. Your bandages might come apart."<p>

Castor could barely hear Labrador's calls out to Frau as the latter bounded up the stairs. He couldn't help but feel bad about what had happened. He should have followed his fut, followed what the heart said was right instead of saying yes to his logic, a logic that was seemingly choosing to prove its flaws in recent times. He laid a hand on his own bandages, feeling the tautness that betrayed emptiness, bound by zaiphon and nothing else. It was a soft, fragile shell around the core of his being, the same as with Frau.

It had been a long time since he knew what pain was. The fire had sprung out of nowhere, devouring their flesh and spirit both. It couldn't have been something of warsfeil magic: the fire had burned clean, and it hadn't smelled of the stench of Verloren. The fact that they did not know what it was, as well as that it could touch them, shook the ghosts to their very beings.

There was now a new way to die.

Castor looked up to see that he was back in his office, the door clicking shut and locking them from the outside world. Lance, Frau and Labrador were staring back at him, a mix of curiosity, frustration and worry written on their faces.

"I'm alright, "he offered with a sigh. "Let's do what we should have done from the beginning."

He watched Lance wave the baculus around as his surroundings wove into threads and dissolved into the mist. The wall he was leaning on collapsed into dust as Castor watched the world flash them by, a tree shrivelling back into a sapling, then a seed; clouds spinning in reverse as rain rose from the ground into the sky; people growing younger and disappearing from existence. Castor should've allowed them to do this when they had told him to. He shouldn't have erased Saar's memories. He should, he shouldn't…

_Should I be having regrets, even when I'm dead?_

"Takeshi!"

Castor watched a small blonde boy scream as the apple tree roared, leaves churning from branches as roots cracked from the ground. The boy tried to run, except that there was nowhere to run. He caught sight of another boy – an old soul in a youngster's strong body – dusting his hands before picking each apple from the tree that now lay on its side.

"Takeshi! What was that for?" The smaller body got up from between the branches of the tree, a little bruised but otherwise intact from his fall with the tree. He watched the larger, more built teenager collect the fruit in large sacks. There was a noticeable difference in their clothes – Castor recognised the rich silken cloths that draped snugly around the young blonde, and the patchy, dull uniform that "Takeshi" wore, fitting around his body snugly only because of the repeated application of new patches over the old ones.

_Takeshi… Saar, so that's you, a serving boy?_

He could see those beautiful golden eyes, the burned tan skin that was almost burnished bronze, the raven tresses, the same disconcerting stare. When he opened his mouth he could hear the same melodious voice sing words.

"Don't worry Konatsu, I'll put it back in the ground."

"Why don't you just _**climb**_?" was the exasperated reply from the lithe, quick child as he sat beside Takeshi, choosing an apple from the sack and biting into it with a crisp snap. "You're strong enough to pull yourself up from the windowsill if you need it."

"Because if I climbed the tree and went to the outer branches you know I'd might as well just pull the entire tree bare of branches. I'm too heavy and large, you know that."

"And too strong," Frau muttered under his breath. "Where does one get this much strength?"

"I'm sorry you had to see a child beat you at your game," Castor couldn't resist the jibe as he heard Frau growl in protest. Some things, like Frau's inability to lose without feeling sore, never changed.

There was a change in the air. Labrador turned with a slight "oh".

A silhouette had appeared form behind another tree, stepping out of the shadow and into the full sunlight. Castor's eyes widened: he knew that man. The head of the Warren household approached briskly and Castor thought to flee. He'd had too many exchanges with the man not to remember the stern, set jaw, the golden yet lifeless eyes and the perpetual snarl that stretched across his face. What he would give to ignore the head of the Warren household wherever he went.

Except that Castor realised he was a mere observer. He had no part in this sequence of events. He could feel his hands tighten and Frau let out another growl as he squeezed the latter's shoulders, not knowing what was coming.

There was the crack of a whip and a gasp for air.

"What have you DONE?" The roar of pure, unreasoned indignation was one he heard too often in the house of Hausen. Castor watched Takeshi gripping the edge of the shadows, trying to prise them from his throat as the whip cracked a second time. A line of blood drew itself into Saar's back, bleeding through the rags that he wore. Two, four and six lines. "**What have you DONE?**"

"Stop it father!" Konatsu shrieked. He ran towards the master, but was rewarded with a push and a shove to the ground like as though he had merely been made of air.

"And YOU, hanging around with scum like him? I ought to treat you like that worthless piece of trash if not for the fact that YOU, Konatsu Warren, are my SON!" The man thundered and lashed the whip across Takeshi, each crack sending Konatsu into screaming fits, not being able to do anything but watch Takeshi struggle and go pale, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

"Why are we watching this," Labrador whispered to Lance. "It's quite disturbing, really."

"I didn't choose it," Lance muttered back in reply. "Time has a way of determining what is important and what is not. Apparently this was too big an event not to miss, and I stopped here because the time felt right."

The shadows that held Takeshi in a chokehold seemed to grow in thickness. Castor wanted to reach out, to banish the darkness, but he knew it was no use. He could feel something creeping into his heart. It felt like pity, but it could have been mere empathy for all he knew. Suddenly, the shadows fled, screaming down the orchard. He saw the master of the house have his face thrown ack, a line of blood streaming from his mouth towards the ground.

"Shame on YOU!" There was something different about the way this voice thundered. It sounded like it had a right to be shouting. "Treating both your sons differently because one was made out of your own stupidity! Verloren abandon you, not caring for the children that were sown from your own seed!" This player was silvery and golden haired, old but standing tall, like a knight with an air of righteousness and passion that burned away his age in the sunlight. "To hell with you! Get out of my sight: I am ashamed to have YOU as my son, and I have REASON to do so. Get out!"

"The way he dissipated the wars…" Frau mused. "The true master is in the house."

"Wars and magic that he didn't call forth – that man is dangerous, but a righteous one. A dark crusader," Lance clapped a hand on Castor's shoulder. "We need more men like him in this world. People like him. And me."

Castor rolled his eyes, but the scene was flying back into a blur. The tree had its roots creeping back into the soil as it froze over, becoming bare with winter, growing out with spring and summer, fruiting and shedding. The cycle continued countless times until Castor saw it as large as an oak. Ridiculously large, but strong and healthy. A pair of teenagers were sparring while a now greyer-haired master looked on. Streams of wars and magic were cut like ribbons as Takeshi threw everything he had at Konatsu. The blonde could only slice through the souls with the edge of his sword, never sending back any attacks of his own.

"That's it Takeshi! Faster, faster! You're strong, but you've got to overwhelm Konatsu's agility with attacks of your own, otherwise he'll slit your throat and that'll be the end of you!"

Takeshi growled, redoubling his efforts as he directed twice as many spells in half the time, Konatsu barely forming the words with his attacking zaiphon before being cut off from forcing to defend himself.

"An illegitimate child…" Labrador whispered, but his train of thought was cut as they saw something that made all four of the ghosts back away behind the apple tree.

Black flames sprouted up from the earth, licking at Konatsu's feet as the swordsman danced around, his weapon gleaming, wanting fresh blood, but too far from his enemy.

"He could use it under control," Frau cussed. "Scheming bastard."

"But Castor had his mind wiped," Labrador protested gently, watching Takeshi stand tall amidst the flames. "It might have interfered with his ability to actively use this skill."

"But… shit, to use the fires of hell like that…"

"Dangerous," Castor echoed. Why did the Chief of Heaven even allow a mortal – a warsfeil of all people – to control the powers of hell on earth? Watching with weary eyes, the dance sped up, turning into a play as the grass grew. The wind shattered the scene as day turned into night, the scene evaporating. The apple tree now bore fruit so red that it shone black in the moonlight. Sounds came from the house in this new time, screams of a woman and shouts of a man. Castor and the three were brought there by a push of the wind and the slip of time itself.

They saw the woman; she was ragged and bloody, whipped by the same bastard of a man. The master of the house was relentless about his punishment. Several servants clamoured outside the doorway, but none dared to step foor into the same room, none daring to put their lives at risk of the shadows that danced and laughed at the woman's misery.

But as tormented as she was, Castor could not shake off the glow that seemed to envelope her, protecting her. There was an unnatural calm in her features. It made her seem ageless, holy, beautiful almost.

"Lay off her!"

Castor saw the whip of shadow spasm back and forth, lashing back at its master. It dragged across his skin, tightening in a noose around his neck. Castor didn't hear the woman's cries to stop as that shadow dragged the man out of the house into the orchard to choked curses and threats. He was too busy looking into Saar's furious eyes – the exact same Saar he knew of strength and stature – watching those black fires of judgement burng in his eyes.

Castor looked back out through the door. That body, once kicking and cussing, now hung still, floating, suspended the midst of the black apple tree. The woman turned to Saar.

"You must leave," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. "The elders will surely want your blood for this."

"Why don't you come with me, mother?" Saar helped the lady up, brushing a hand over her wounds as the words of his healing zaiphon embraced her, pulling skin over skin.

"I'll stay here. I'll handle the fallout," she said. Too calm for something just whipped and beaten and witnessing a murder right in front of her eyes. "I can't leave. You know they need me."

Castor looked around again. He saw the maids peeking out from the doorway, the cooks and farmboys staring slack-jawed at what Saar had done. A woman who looked dressed as the matron of the house put her hands on Saar's shoulders. "Your ma is right, boy. She wants you to have a life, not be in the dungeons, no good there."

"And you know I'm too ill to travel. You know it."

Castor saw Saar fighting back his frustration at his lack of options, bringing his forehead to his mothers, bending down, whispering, gritting his teeth all at the same time.

"I'll get you a cure," Saar touched her hands to his face. "Any cure I can find. You have to stay alive, mother." Tears rolled down his soot-covered cheeks, drawing lines across his face. "They said there's something in the House of Krat… something there…"

Castor heard Labrador sigh as the woman smiled sadly. She stroked her son's face gently. "You do that. I'll stay alive as long as need be." The Assistant Archbishop felt the bile rise up his inexistent throat as his fingers grasped at the bandages. Was that one of the things that Saar had so desperately wanted to do before Castor had inconsiderately rid him of his memories?

_Oh I'm not a man,  
>Not a human, not a creature<br>I'm worse than an animal  
>What do I do to repent and live?<em>

He watched as a long-haired Saar sang in his split voice, song rising to the sky with the flames of the gypsy bonfire as the four of them were thrown into the crags of a canyon with the caravan. The gypsies sang back their improvised call, mournfully, but with a touch of glitter that sounded like hope.

_Oh ye cursed by the devil's touch  
>Find your heart in the home of God<br>Where you'll get freedom, love  
>Things beyond your comprehension.<em>

Castor found himself back in his room. He looked up. No one else was looking up from the floor, as if they were still caught up in the presence of the past. He could feel his heart sink. This reading of Saar's past had cemented him as good a criminal as any other.

Labrador was the first to speak.

"We need to fix this. And fast."

"You guys go ahead," Castor felt the bitterness well up at the tip of his tongue. He was doing this for the sake of others, for the benefit of the greater good. The door clicked, unlocking itself as he swung it outwards. "I can't trust myself to make decision with my flawed logic anyway."

And as he closed the door behind him he hoped that one of them would say otherwise. He hoped Frau would suddenly burst out, grab him by the bandages and tear them apart, telling him how stupid a four-eyed bugger he was. He hoped Labrador would object and say something in his usual kindly manner. He hoped Lance would just outright tell him to stay and be part of it.

But he heard nothing, and rightfully so. The corridor felt cold as he walked, uncertain of his destination, not sure whether if he could trust himself, let alone have others trust him.

* * *

><p>Teito sat in the coffin, trying not to worry.<p>

_Stop worrying, Teito._

The bishop was in Frau's room. He couldn't help but feel like as though the months that led up to his coronation had been filled with too much of Saar and too little of Frau.

_It's not like he needs me anyway. He's one of the seven ghosts._

Teito shook his head. Frau was his mentor and friend. Even if Frau didn't need him in that sense, Teito didn't have any reason to neglect their relationship like that.

_Does it even matter to him - _

His eyes widened as he saw a scowling face peek over the edge of the coffin.

"Get out of my bed, brat," Frau shooed Teito out of the so-called bed. "Not healthy for such a young bishop like you to sleep in a coffin."

Teito stared at Frau. The normally unflappable bishop seemed off, slouching over his desk like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"I saw a hawkzile flying over the bazaar yesterday," Teito started. "Was that you and the other bishops we couldn't find you at your stalls."

Frau let out a long sigh. Now Teito knew something was wrong. Frau never sighed like the world was going to end.

"You see the warsfeil around lately?"

Teito thought he would choke with anger as he felt it well up within his chest.

"I can't believe you still refer to him as _'The Warsfeil'_! What is wrong with you? I thought you were over it, him being dangerous and all that." He could feel himself spit out the words, along with the bitter taste at the tip of his tongue. "Fine, I know you dislike him, but he's still a person! So for chirst's sakes, why is it that you took me in as a normal person but wouldn't even bother to remember his name all these months?!" Teito felt his legs bring him to the door as he stood in front of it, feeling the heat radiate off his face. He took a deep breath. He hadn't answered the question.

"No, I haven't seen him in the past week, if that's what you're asking about Saar."

"It was him on that hawkzile." Teito's hand was stuck midway to the door handle. He didn't quite get it.

"So he left the church? He gave up?"

"I don't think you'd call his doing this 'giving up'." Frau pulled apart his bandages for Teito to see. His body was patches of skin and areas of nothingness. The shining, flowing core that sat in his heart was blackened with soot, a good chunk of it eaten up as if by a person who mistook it for a piece of candy.

"You want to know what happened? Well, apparently he has a sibling who is from the Black Hawks, one who was looking for the warsfeil. Stirred up too much trouble, so Saar appeared, summoned burning flames from hell and torched us." Frau threw his hands up with frustration, pausing to breathe. "Nothing should be able to touch us, less anything of divine or spiritual nature. This fire burnt half of my spirit core."

"So he... was coerced into leaving?"

"Hey, I'm not the Chief. I don't know everything, but should be."

Teito touched his forehead. Something was wrong. "But you didn't manage to stop this sibling of his before Saar appeared and burned you all to pieces?"

Frau stared at Teito blankly. "Castor was too curious. He wanted to ask the Black Hawk about Saar, but he didn't ask. So it became a sparring match."

"I thought you were the strongest of the lot," Teito choked with laughter as he saw Frau's face turn sour. At least the man still held some semblance of emotion within him, but Teito couldn't shake the feeling of dread – if Saar had been taken away by the black hawks, what could possibly be the outcome of all this?

"Y'know," Frau leaned back in the chair, letting it stand precariously on two legs, "you're a good guy, Teito. You looked out for Saar even though no one dared to look at him, let along touch him."

"That's because Mikage did the same for me, Frau." He stroked the fyulong in assertion of his statement. Teito knew how it was like going into a place, independent of others, treated like an alien. Mikage was the one who breached his armour and personal bubble, the one who taught him how to appreciate life and love it, not just go through the motions. "He was the one who made me realise that I was more than a killing machine. You should know how it feels like, Frau."

"I guess I do," Frau peeked out of the window. Teito knew that he was looking at the sapling that was Bastien's reincarnation, growing slowly, taking its time. "At least you had someone to mentor, someone for you to look out for."

"Like how you looked out for me too," Teito came to stand beside Frau, looking over the same evie tree sapling. "But he's gone," Teito mulled, walking back and collapsing into the coffin. "And I didn't even get a chance to convince him to stay..."

"No use worrying about it, unless there's something you think you can do about it." Frau's hair hung over his head, swaying in a gently breeze that wasn't there. Teito didn't know if Frau was putting ideas in his head but as willing as he was to chase after Saar, he didn't know where he was...

"The bracelets." Teito sat up in his seat, knocking against Frau's head.

"Yes, I should cuff you now for doing that, stupid brat," Frau was rubbing his head but grinning from ear to ear. "You might want to tell Castor about it."

"And Hakuren, and Ouka..." Teito leaped from the coffin to the door, robes trailing out from behind him as he ran down the hall to Castor's room. Frau's sigh turned into a chuckle of his own.

"You're all grown up now, huh?" he whispered, the smile lighting up the whole room.

* * *

><p>Takeshi looked around the room. There was no one, nothing at all. At least until he saw the table at the end of the room and the chair that turned around to face him. It revealed a man with a peak cap, snowy white hair and eyes that slit dangerously to stare at him like how a snake stared at its prey before the pounce.<p>

"Come in," the voice told him as he felt his body draw involuntary towards the man. And suddenly he was at attention and saluting.

"Captain Takeshi Warren, reporting as instructed sir," Takeshi stood, not a single muscle moving as he held his breath. He didn't like being in precarious situations, and there was something about this man that made him much more dangerous that Hyuuga had made him out to be.

"At ease, Captain. The voice reverberated deep through his soul as he nearly stumbled backwards at the power behind those words. Takeshi was determined not to falter as he cut down sharply. "Have a seat."

"Thank you sir." The chair just made him feel sick. He was in a situation in which he didn't know how to react, whether or not he should provide curated answers or genuine opinions, if he were to be asked questions at all. He didn't even know what he was doing here.

"First I'd like to say, welcome back from your mission," Ayanami fingered through sheets of paper that lay dormant on his table. "Though I would've liked the report to have come in directly from you, the circumstances did not allow for it. Judging from what they've gone out of their way to discover," the chief leaned in closer, locking his stare with Takeshi's, "you've gone beyond the call of duty to make that mission a success, and that's why you're sitting here with a Captain's rank instead of still remaining Lieutenant."

"Thank you sir." Was that the only thing he was going to say throughout the entire meeting? Confound it, but Takeshi wished that Konatsu was in here with him. His presence would have been more than enough to dissipate all the nerves that now translated into his hands being cold and clammy and his body shivering involuntarily. Ayanami raised an eyebrow.

"Are you alright, Captain?"

"I am, sir," he could hear his voice tremble. "It's just…" he took in a deep breath before he spoke, banishing all thoughts that labelled him as crazy. "I do not feel that I am worthy of your presence, sir."

"And why so?"

"I'm just a junior officer, sir," Takeshi wrung his hands out. "I do not deserve to have the notice, care and concern of the man who is in charge of the entire army, at least not in my opinion. That you are concerned about my well being is too much for me to comprehend, sir." He didn't know why he was doing this, acting this way. It felt wrong, unnatural. The cold beads of perspiration rolled down his forehead and stung his eyes. For a moment he was stunned when Ayanami smiled, chuckled even.

"The mission must have really messed up your head, Captain Takeshi." That voice was now kinder, warmer than before. He felt his hands thaw as he looked into Ayanami's eyes. "Understand this: you are one of the black hawks. That is all the reason I need for me to care about you, understand?"

"Yes sir, though I do not exactly remember much about the black hawks," Takeshi lied through his teeth. He knew nothing about the black hawks. His shame dug deeper into his psyche.

"I'll get the military scientists to look into your brain, see whether they can help you recover anything," he typed something out on a keyboard which Takeshi could only guess was a notice for an appointment. "It would be troublesome for you to be going around everywhere with nary a hint of knowledge whatsoever about your surroundings. We can't have that."

He raised a hand before Takeshi could thank him.

"I know this may sound a little sudden, but Takeshi, what do you think about becoming my Begleiter?"

_Don't move, don't react, you look weak enough as it is._ Takeshi wanted to ask the man if he was mad. A captain, being the Begleiter of the Field Marshal of the Barsburg Army?

"And before you think about rank, I've had a fresh graduate from the Begleiter examinations become my apprentice once too." Now his voice was almost devoid of coldness and sounded civil, like as though he was genuinely trying to be friendly. Takeshi's eyes darted from Ayanami's stare to his white hair, the peak cap that sat forlornly on his head, and the golden trimmings that spoke of his rank. "I understand if you have reservations…"

"No, sir," Takeshi felt his lips move on their own accord yet again. He flinched at having cut off his superior, but continued anyway. "I will be honoured to be your Begleiter." He watched Ayanami's mouth crack into a smile. No grin, no teeth, just a measured, calm smile that seemed to light up the place.

"I will arrange for your duties to start next week," Ayanami started typing more things. "But before that, I'd have the scientists reassess your brain functions first, and you will have to take the Begleiter examination, just to make sure you haven't actually forgotten how to fight."

"I hope I haven't, sir."

"I don't think you have, judging from the damage you caused in your care ward today." Takeshi stared at the floor, remembering the incident with the glass all too clearly, examining his hands but seeing only the white of the bandages. How did Ayanami even hear of it? "Konatsu will continue to guide you along, though as his duties catch up with him I'll get one of the fresher Begleiters to be your helper for two weeks." He looked up from his computer screen. "Do you have any questions for me?"

"Are we – the black hawks – a support arm or combat troopers, sir?" He just wanted to make sure, but Ayanami just answered.

"You're the army's elite. As a black hawk you have abilities that allow you to take out entire battalions without breaking so much of a sweat. In fact, you've done it before," Ayanami gestured to the report that he had been reading just a few minutes ago. "You can do anything, just remember that."

"Anything," Takeshi repeated, letting the word roll around on the tip of his tongue. "I can do anything." Even after Ayanami had dismissed him he walked out of the room, repeating the phrase several times before Konatsu caught sight of him from across the corridor.

"I can do anything."

* * *

><p>AN: It's been awhile! I'm sorry I didn't manage to fulfil my promise of having written and edited all in a month's time, but I hop the monstrosity of this chapter is enough to sate you… and receive some reviews in turn! November is going to be NaNo month, and as such I will still be working on this fic, but again you can expect a delay in the next chapter… I'm really sorry! But I promise I will try to write, and I KNOW I will complete this fic to the best of my ability, because I swore I would when I started this. Thank you to all the constant readers, I love you, and I want to send you Christmas presents for being so awesome. TL;DR – SORRY, THANK YOU, SORRY, THANK YOU, **READ AND REVIEW** PLEASE!


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

* * *

><p>Takeshi could not understand the enigma that was Shuri.<p>

Shuri Oak, son of the late Wakaba Oak, the former Field Marshal of the Barsburg army, acted like anything but an ideal leader. He was childish, puerile and incorrigibly petulant. Those were the words that Hyuuga had used to describe Ayanami's current Begleiter, and Takeshi could see why. Even just spending half an hour with the young man made Takeshi see why even Konatsu disregarded him as nothing but a fly to be swatted around. The pout on his lips stirred some odd form of resentment within Takeshi, a resentment he hadn't felt in a long time.

"I'm Ayanami's Begleiter! Papa said so!"

Takeshi so badly wanted to batter the ignorance out of the lad, even as he was led down the lifts to the analytic laboratories where Ayanami had promised him a look into his brain. It was inconvenient not remembering so much, especially when Konatsu tried so hard to piece together memories for him, pictures he didn't know had been taken, of him on warfronts that he barely recognised. Shuri had been going on and on about how he wouldn't let Takeshi take over his job as Ayanami's Begleiter, and how Takeshi could never do as good a job as himself. Takeshi could feel the edges of his fingernails digging into the hardened flesh of his palms, leaving long red welts where he had vented his frustration on. As soon as the lift doors opened a trooper stopped Shuri right in his tracks.

"You're not needed, Shuri-san. Please just leave Captain Takeshi in the laboratory and report back for your duties."

"You're telling me what to do?" the blonde-haired boy exclaimed indignantly, pushing the trooper roughly aside with a strength that belied his lithe frame. "I won't listen to the likes of you, troopers, bah!"

"It's okay, Shuri," Takeshi held his voice, looking at the trooper to make sure he was alright. His blood was beginning to boil, but he tried to take the shake out of his tone. "I can handle myself from here."

"No! I want in, and I'm going in!" Shuri took two long strides before he braked.

"Shuri-_chan_, report back to my office and help Konatsu with the paperwork. That is an order." Takeshi felt a chill run up his spine as he watched Shuri freeze. Ayanami stood, tall and proud with peak cap and sword at his waist. When he had spoken to Ayanami there had barely been a shard of ice in the Field Marshal's tone, but now Shuri looked like he was going to wet himself. Takeshi could feel an authoritative energy that cackled between the Begleiter and his superior, an energy that dared Shuri to rebel against the one man he was supposed to serve and aid.

"S-sir." The blonde boy slunk back into the lift, but all Takeshi saw was a shadow passing him by, and all he heard was the ding and woosh of the lift as it sent the teenager on his way. Suddenly the frost disappeared as Ayanami let out a sigh that seemed to settle the room back to normalcy. The trooper stood back at ease.

"That boy needs to learn, needs to stop being so foolish. Come, Takeshi. They've been waiting."

The laboratory smelled as it should: of bleach and alcohol and cleanliness. Instruments hummed in the background against the steady clap of Takeshi's boots. A man in a pristine white lab coat guided Takeshi into a bed chamber, instructing him to take his cloak and shirt off. He did so reluctantly, feeling the sting of sterile air against his skin and an uncomfortable dryness envelope him. The electrodes stuck comfortable on his body, too many for Takeshi to bother holding so that they wouldn't tangle. He saw a number on the screen shoot up with a sudden throb in his head as he caught a flash of Ayanami walking past the viewing panel, but the smile made him settle bad down into the recliner, staring at the unforgiving fluorescent lights that threatened to burn halos into his vision.

"Just relax, sir. It will be over in a jiffy."

The steady rhythm of beeps representing his pulse refused to slow. It was the only thing he could hear as he tuned out, ignoring the shuffling of feet and the bumps against drywall that went on in the palace of equipment outside. He could feel himself slipping, falling into an unrestful slumber as the beeps faded from his conscious thought…

"Moloch!"

His world turned blood red even in the darkness, yet Takeshi could see an island of black just beyond his reach. He tried to move his legs but felt them swim in jelly. The red breathed, murmured to him like as though it were an alien seeking to devour him. It pulsated with a heartbeat and unsettled Takeshi as he swam in gelatinous matter that he could not see, trying so hard to reach that solitary oasis of black, of rest. Something in his head told him it was important, that he had to run, he had to reach it or die.

"Moloch!"

The red breathed again, and this time he could feel it swimming up to his waist as he paddled, panicked. It constricted around his lower body even as he broke out into leaping through the mass that hindered him, feeling it soak through his pants, creeping up his bare torso, threatening to make him submit. He could just see the black, stretching his hand out to reach it, grunting in frustration even as he missed it by centimetres, or miles, he couldn't tell. The red lurched and squeezed.

"Answer me, Moloch!"

Takeshi found himself within the embrace of cool, black darkness, his pants surprisingly dry, free from the gel that had soaked him to the skin. There was no sign of the red around him – it had turned back to black beyond reason, beyond space. A large wooden chest seated itself prettily in front of him. Ornaments and symbols curved and snapped back in wooden shapes he could not recognise even as he looked for a seam in the box – there was no crack or clasp that he could pry open, but when he rapped his knuckles on it he heard an audible thud of hollowness and the clatter of something within. Takeshi found himself sitting there, breathing heavily, frustrated. Giving him a box with no opening was the equivalent of dangling a carrot where a rabbit could see and smell, but could never reach. He looked around for anything he could use to break through the wood, but came up empty handed, settling on sitting on top of the chest, wondering what he was doing.

"If you live, Moloch, answer me!"

Takeshi stood at the voice. He had heard it the first time, but saw no one else in the space around him, all shrouded in darkness. A voice the other day had called him by the name that was mentioned… was this thick, sunken voice calling for him? Breathing in, he staggered back at the bass of his voice, a voice that sang in pitches of angels and overtones beyond his comprehension, a voice he never knew belonged to him.

"I am here."

"Then it is done."

Takeshi pondered what the voice meant. What was done? What was there to do? His thoughts were interrupted when his back arched, the frisson of pain piercing his head as he heard something scream – whether man or machine he couldn't tell. He could see shapes fluttering about, voices yelling above the din, lights turning themselves on and off as the figures ghosted around the room. He felt the sharp jab of cool metal run through his arm, an ant bite to the crushing hurt that was tearing him apart. A shrill cry that he now knew belonged to him reverberated in the chamber, the lights blinking out as the darkness took him again. This time there was only pure shadow, without light, without red and in silence as Takeshi let himself drown in black, the anguish throbbing at the back of his head, swimming in the unconscious.

* * *

><p>Teito had told Castor about the bracelets that had been clasped around Saar's hands, those that had the insignias and words casted into them, branding him warsfeil and dangerous. Castor had taken it all in calmly, fingers interlocked and resting his chin on the web of his hands, but Teito could feel his blood pumping, his heart beating at the prospect of getting the man back from the black hawks. He couldn't afford to lose a friend that he had finally come to get, a friend that he was just starting to get to know. Castor had then left the office, telling Teito that he would get the rest. Ouida had come running, bringing Teito down into the bowels of the church where he knew the Kor were kept for training. A door he had never opened revealed the four ghosts, Ouka and Hakuren staring at a screen.<p>

"Where is he?" Teito didn't even other with honorifics as he strode in. "Hakuren? Ouka?" Slowly, they shifted their bodies aside, letting Teito take in a full view of its contents as his eyes glanced over the words and numbers that shifted every second, causing him to let out a less-than-satisfied "oh".

"District 1, Teito," Hakuren murmured. "And the Army Headquarters at that."

It was to be expected. Where else would the black hawks go to other than their stronghold? Teito was surprised that they hadn't already found a way to dispose of the bracelets if it were possible at all.

"We've already decided with Assistant Archibishop Castor," Ouka broke the silence. Teito noticed Hakuren giving her a pained look, but it wasn't anything she couldn't disregard as she jumped right in. "Hakuren and I will go help you find him, Teito. Only the both of us."

"No!" Teito saw them jump a little as he covered his mouth in embarrassment. "I'm coming too."

"You'll just attract Ayanami's attention, stupid," Frau knuckled Teito's head, as though the younger man's current status of a bishop provided no sense of equality in this situation. "You heard the lady – only the two of them."

Teito felt his mouth run dry. He couldn't argue with them: the only reason why Ayanami hadn't visited the church was because Teito would be free to let Mikhail take out a huge chunk of him. But in his own territory it was different. In the military academy Teito would have to prioritise stealth and cover over everything else. He would have to weave his way through the ranks, trying to locate Saar if Ayanami didn't find Teito first, then somehow smuggle Saar out of the complex without any prior intelligence on the situation whatsoever. Something burned in his chest as he opened his mouth to protest.

"I want to go." This was a feeble mew compared to his earlier outburst. "I want to see that he's alright."

"You know you can't Teito," Ouka held his hands, her warm fingers trailing over his cold, clammy hands. "You know they're after you."

"I…" all his resolve melted into nothingness. "I can't just sit here!"

"You won't just be sitting here," Hakuren stepped forward. "It's Monday tomorrow, Bishop Teito. You have duties calling."

It was the final nail in the coffin. Teito could only sigh and nod, turning his back to the party as the door clicked shut behind him. He considered all the options: leaving on his own would mean shirking his new duties. Perhaps he could stow himself away with the convoy, but the fact remained that Ayanami wanted him – wanted to eye of Mikhail and wanted to open Pandora's Box. The four ghosts wouldn't let it happen, not in a million years.

"Teito?"

He was about to pull the door open to his room when the voice made him turn on his heels. Ouida stood there, hands on his hips.

"Ouida?"

The fellow bishop let out a sigh, his ponytail swinging with the shake of his head.

"I'll cover your duties for you, Teito."

It took him a split second to realise what Ouida was implying. His eyes widened.

"But Ayanami…"

"Doesn't know that you are coming," Ouida pushed opened the door to Teito's room and drew him inside. "Teito, it's been two years. Who's to say you aren't strong enough to face him now? You know yourself, how hard you have been training, how strong you have become in the training that Saar has helped you with."

"Who's the say I am strong enough?" Teito looked out to the gardens below, watching beds of Cosmos dancing in the tease of lone zephyrs he couldn't see. "Ouida, with Ayanami, I can't afford to be rash. You know this as much as I do, and it was what all of them raised earlier."

Ouida glared at Teito, making the green-eyed bishop take a step back into the shadow, as if the dark could hide him from Ouida's judgemental stare. "That doesn't sound like the Teito Klein I met two years ago. The Teito Klein I knew would spring at any chance to get out of here. The Teito Klein I knew would drop everything he was doing for his friends." He pointed to Mikage, asleep on Teito's shoulder. The fyulong dragon represented so much to Teito – friendship beyond death, oaths, promises unfulfilled. He had promised to pull Saar out of the darkness, but he had yet to learn how to do it, and yet to actually do what Mikage had told him to do. "What happened, Teito?"

"The Teito you knew from two years ago isn't the Teito that's standing in front of you right now." Ouida shook his head at Teito's murmuring.

"You're wrong. He's still there," Ouida jabbed a finger at Teito's chest, where his heart lay. "He's still there, buried, waiting to be called upon. I can't change your mind Teito, not if you refuse to believe in yourself." The bishop sighed and walked out of the room, and as the door clicked shut Teito was left in the silence of the room, standing like as though nothing had ever happened, watching the sun set to golden rays streaming into his room. Somewhere, a bell began to chime, calling all but the mulling bishop to dinner as he let it go unheard, hearing only the voices that argued inside his head.

* * *

><p>Takeshi walked in step with his guide, his mind so blank yet so full of questions, indecisive towards what state he should be in. Shuri took sideways glances at him but strangely refrained from talking. Takeshi could tell that the younger man was bursting at the seams with curiosity, and the need to ask something.<p>

"What?"

Shuri jumped. "Nothing, sir." Takeshi sighed. There must have been something Ayanami did to Shuri, or at least something he said, that made the beglietier this jumpy. "Just a rumour floating around that I'm thinking about."

"What rumour?"

"That you're warsfeil!" Shuri let it slip without so much of a thought. Takeshi slowed his pace considerably, as if he couldn't afford the mental stress of comprehending the situation. "Are you really warsfeil, sir?"

"What, where did this rumour come from, Shuri?"

It was ridiculous. Konatsu had told him that warsfeil were never open acknowledged as being present in the Barsburg army. Yet, the black hawks were full of warsfeil, save Konatsu. What was so significant about him that he had to be picked out as a source of rumour? Shuri went on babbling about how someone told someone that he thought Takeshi was warsfeil because, well, he was in the black hawks and… the story went on. "But you know you can't use your magic in class or the exams, right? After all, it is an examination to test your physical and zaiphon proficiency."

"Yeah," Takeshi didn't seem to be able to get more than singular words out of his system, feeling his face harden. He hadn't been told anything but he didn't want to say anything about being warsfeil. He never liked being warsfeil, and it didn't help that everyone – or at least the vast majority of the human population – shied away from people like him when they knew. It wasn't something to be proud of, something to hold your head up high for. He could head the noise and yells of the students as they closed in the classrooms. Perhaps they were on break, or it was time in-between lessons, but he expected military students to be much more disciplined that what he could head between walls. Shuri waltzed into a classroom, not remembering to hold the door for Takeshi as the warsfeil caught up to hold it open for himself.

"Class alpha!"

That haughty, high-pitched voice grated the chaos of the class to a halt as twenty five pairs of eyes turned to stare at the door. Takeshi didn't feel like he was personally glaring at them, but that split second of silence had them realising their visitor was someone of high rank. A boy with the white thread knotted to a lanyard of the sergeant major position drew his hand up to a salute, the rest of the class following suit to pay their compliments. Takeshi looked at Shuri, but all he got was a blank stare and a blow of the lips. It took five seconds for Takeshi to realise that the class was greeting him, not Shuri.

"Good day gentlmen, at ease, carry on whatever it was that you were doing." The hands snapped back down as the students carried on with their play, albeit in measured tones. He caught them staring at his ranks and overheard snatches of their conversations, but they didn't seem to notice that he was watching and listening.

"What rank is that?"

"Captain, captain you idiot! How long have you been here?"

"But why thorns? I thought they usually had leaves or braids?"

"What formation is that?"

"Is he joining us for training?"

Takeshi turned and looked to find Shuri for conversation, but the spoiled child was long gone. After all, he was only meant to guide Takeshi to the classroom. He found an empty seat and placed himself there, his turn to watch the students in their place, in their natural habitat. Even so, he could feel themselves holding back, and it made him rather upset that he couldn't understand how these people behaved, couldn't discover how other people lived.

_Remember, you're an officer, and almost on your way to a senior officer rank,_ Konatsu had told him earlier. _Lots of people will pay compliments to you. The only ones who are higher up than you are those with the golden lanyards, but even then they wouldn't want to mess around with a black hawk. I like to greet them still, you know, just to appreciate their standing, what they've worked so hard for._

So will these cadets eventually be the future officers of the army? Takeshi still felt like as though he knew something from long ago that was somewhere in the depths of his head, things about the army he didn't realise he knew, but it felt odd like as though it were obscured by shroud and a wall he couldn't see. All he could do was to let his body submit to whatever sudden urges he felt, whatever he felt needed to be said, and Takeshi did not like to rely on feeling. Feelings were subjective, unreliable and terribly godforsaken treacherous.

_Christ, why are there no trees in District 1?_

Something in him missed the trees, a memory of wandering wild lands, taking from nature and giving back. I thought he remembered songs of lost lives and love, but brushed it away as a bell rang from somewhere, student scrambling back to their seats. Takeshi noticed one who stood in the corner, seemingly lost. He put two and two together.

"Is this your seat?"

"I-it's alright sir," the cadet stuttered. "You can take it."

"No, no, it's fine," Takeshi gestured as gently as he could make it. "Come on, sit down. Lesson's about to start I suppose."

"Are you taking us for today, sir?" The cadet sergeant major asked. Takeshi shook his head as he heard the door opened. "Lloyd sensei in the room, class greet, and salute!"

Takeshi stood at ease as the class bowed, greeting their teacher. So he was in the right place after all, but what he didn't expect was the wave of students who turned on heel at the call of an unexpected regulation pause – unexpected to him at least – and saluted him again, as even the teacher saluted him. It felt off, odd. He wanted to laugh as his arm flew up in return of the salute, cutting down neatly. He had practised it on Ayanami and the Field Marshal hadn't seemed to mind. Konatsu had commented it was very neat and precise too. "Carry on gentlemen, sir," his lips moved to feeling again, nodding to the teacher. This was too much formality in one day for him.

"Good day gentlemen," Lloyd started. "First, could someone so kindly get a chair for the _senior_ officer at the back?" The class sergeant major ran out sheepishly even as Takeshi waved the offer away. The chair was brought to him, and the least he could do was to sit on it as he thanked the cadet. He couldn't help but stare at Lloyd's twin ponytails, the silvery white hair flailing like streams of a waterfall frozen to his knees and held as captives. The large, purplish eyes scanned the room.

"As you all know, we are having our final training today, your preliminaries, more like, in preparation for your final graduation examination on Friday." The murmur of acknowledgement rose. "And today we have with us Captain Takeshi Warren. He's on attachment by orders of the Field Marshal, so he will be watching you and taking the test as well. If you want to find out why, you can ask him yourself. Who knows, he might teach you some things I myself wouldn't know, or show you something special if you show some outstanding fights." Takeshi raised an eyebrow. Hyuuga hadn't told him of any evaluation or surprises, but he guessed anything he did later would be a surprise to the class and teacher.

"To the arena, shall we?"

The dragging of chairs clearly dismayed Lloyd, but he made no move to correct their behaviour as the students rushed out of the classroom, chattering excitedly. A few of them turned to look at Takeshi, then jumped back to face forward when he made eye contact with them. He tried to strike up a conversation on the way down to the arena. "So, who's your best fighter?"

"Jiro!" came the chorus of replies. Takeshi smiled as he spotted the single cringing face. "He can knock a person out with a string of zaiphon! He's super fast! He's really accurate with his ranged attacks!" Takeshi could filter some of the comments out as his grin grew wider. Lloyd bent over and spoke as they walked.

"He really is a splendid cadet at practical skills, though he has some problems in his focussing that he has yet to rectify until now."

"What, and why is that, Mister Lloyd?"

"He can't hold onto the form of his zaiphon. Sometimes when he's lucky, his summons will hold. Other times, they just fade like dust in the wind. I've tried everything from my ten years of experience, but it's not a problem that I've been able to solve." Jiro looked back. He knew that Lloyd-sensei was talking about him again and hung his head.

"I don't know how to change it, sir," he mumbled.

"Don't worry, just do your best. I just want to help with whatever I can," Takeshi told Jiro, speaking half to Lloyd. "I'm here more to let Ayanami-sama know that I can still fight after that… mission," Lloyd nodded knowledgeably and Jiro stared with puzzlement across his face, but Takeshi didn't think he should explain. "I'll just help if I can. No pressure, alright?" He placed a hand on the cadet's shoulder. Takeshi felt a jolt run up his spine as he froze.

_Take his soul take it take it and spend it for the kingdom fill it with the three wishes and the deep blac-_

Takeshi pulled like he had just touched hot iron, snapping his hand back to his side, forcing his stiff legs to watch. Lloyd said nothing, and Jiro just smiled, nodding his head as he ran off to the locker rooms in preparation for their fight in the arena. Takeshi shook his head as he pulled a pair of white gloves from his hands, but feeling cool metal in his pockets as well. He pulled out a pair of bracelets, matte silver and brushed smooth with workmanship he couldn't recognise. On it were inscribed words in a tongue he did not understand, but he thought it might have been a gift from Konatsu, and so he placed them back into his pocket, pulling his gloves on.

The arena was a huge dome of glass and metal webbing, the dirt floor seemingly primitive in its surroundings of concrete and steel. The glass bore not a single scratch, but there were plenty of pits and scratches in the dirt where he knew people had fought for their lives, whether voluntarily or not. Lloyd gestured for him to follow as they entered a corridor, Takeshi rapping his knuckles incessantly on the walls, hearing the muted ring of metal that was thick enough to stop a nuclear holocaust. A panel at the end of the corridor lit up, and Lloyd pressed a palm against it. Takeshi heard it sing and watched it flash a thousand colour as a seam in the wall appeared, showing the inside of the arena.

"You have to scan yours too, sir," Lloyd turned back before the door closed behind him. Takeshi grunted, pressing his palm impatiently against the sensor. Was it really that necessary to implement this impracticality? He joined Lloyd in the arena, scraping the floor with the sole of his boots, those that he had bothered to shine clear enough to see his teeth as he pulled a grin.

"Sir, if I may ask a question?"

"Go on, Lloyd," Takeshi felt odd addressing the senior man – senior in age – by his name, but if it was the convention then he would let it be. Lloyd seemed to have no issue with it.

"Why bother polishing your boots? Most cadet beglieters I know could care less after they commission. Even I don't bother," he gave a sour laugh. "Even I don't," he repeated, softer.

"I guess it's something drilled into me that I haven't forgotten, Lloyd-sensei," his eyes shifted to the first student. Takeshi pulled his gloves, making sure that they were tight.

The fights came hard and fast, Takeshi watching dust billow as students attempted to get past the wards that Lloyd put up for them, to destroy the projections that he summoned and chose. Takeshi's comments came in bursts, shouts from the fringes of the dome, and the occasional need for demonstration that he was sure Lloyd had done before, but was doing again anyway.

"Believe in yourself! Cast with conviction!

"Support your friends, that's the only thing that you can do in this situation and you'd better be damn good at doing it!

"Sharp as a blade, Sharp, not blunt like a hammer! Pierce, slice, slash! Speak the words if you have to and make it true!" he roared that last one at the student whose table he had taken. "Speak it, you know it!" His eyes trailed over the words of the zaiphon, too fast for the students to read on their own, but slow enough for Takeshi to read. He vaguely remembered Konatsu, the speed of his casting, the words that were still etched in his mind on one day that they had been training.

_Brothers. Forever._

Takeshi's eyes trailed over Jiro's spells, barely keeping up with his movements but watching his zaiphon float away, drifting into the air two thirds of the time. Was the boy even concentrating? He looked dead into Jiro's eyes, forest green eyes that looked like they were about to burst into tears.

"Jiro!"

The student skidded to a halt as Takeshi slashed the projection in half with a sweep of his hand, walking towards the student.

"Come at me, Jiro."

Without warning, he saw a whip of zaiphon materialise from thin air. Takeshi stepped aside, but watched disappointingly as it flailed and evaporated back into the thin air that it once was. Jiro took a step back as Takeshi looked into his eyes, piercing him straight through the soul. There was something in him that he could see, something blocking him from progress, something that flashed through his mind.

_Fear of failure._

"Jiro, do you love your parents?"

The cadet gave a slow nod, standing rigidly in the middle of the arena, not moving a muscle.

"Do you want them to be proud of you?" Takeshi's voice was quiet, but it carried through the arena, reverberating off the solid glass. "Do you want to see their joy when their son commissions as an officer of the Barsburg armed forces? Do you?"

"Yes, sir."

His eyes narrowed at Jiro again.

"Take a deep breath Jiro, and come at me."

At first the student looked unsure, taking a careful step towards the officer. But he ran toward Takeshi, letting out what seemed to be a war cry. That same whip of zaiphon glowed brighter blue as it struck out at Takeshi, as solid as steel as it smashed into the ground where Takeshi had been a split second earlier. A second and third followed in quick succession, causing earth to rise and pits to fall where energy touched dirt ground. Takeshi was dancing around, always maintaining eye contact with Jiro, watching the boy shape vicious blades in his hands, throwing them in a barrage of points that threatened to tear the captain apart. Takeshi swung his hands out, catching them square in his palms as they dissolved with his counterspells. He watched as Jiro flanked him from the side, letting out another yell, gathering his zaiphon into a ball as he pushed it point-blank, his face transforming to sudden surprise as Takeshi smiled.

"Good job, Jiro."

Sand flew and splashed against the transparent armour of the arena, Lloyd yelling for order as the students stared dumbfounded. Takeshi could hear the chant of the words that made the spell Jiro had unleashed above the bellow of the wind that flew past his ears.

_I love you mom, dad._

* * *

><p>Ouka shifted her eyes around, taking in the scenery of the Barsburg church for the last time. Everyone had gathered to send them off – Hakuren and herself – everyone that mattered. They had agreed that this was more of a reconnaissance mission than search and rescue. Ouka didn't even know why she was involved. She only knew the warsfeil from hearsay and second hand accounts, and Hakuren didn't know him either. But Teito's pleas for the both of them to take it up had stirred her heart, so much so that she found herself fascinated by this personality the bishop had so enthusiastically shared with her. It was funny to see Teito concerned about another person, but then again she had known him for the compassion he showed, compassion toward others, toward all.<p>

"Are you ready, Ouka?" Hakuren had long since dispensed with the formalities toward the princess, since she had made it known that "your majesty" didn't feel appropriate and Hakuren had grown used to it over the years. "District 1… the military scientists won't be happy to be in your presence, but they can't touch you, and you know that."

"A diplomatic visit," she muttered to herself, staring at the back of her palm where she knew the eye of Raphael sat dormant, waiting for her to call upon the great archangel. She sometimes withdrew into her psyche, conversing with Raphael like they were the best of friends. Perhaps they were in a sense. Sometimes, leaning in the shoulder of a six-winged seraphim was the most comforting thing after a day of nightmare diplomacy and politics. She still hadn't abandoned her dreams of being a doctor. Raphael murmured to her.

_I'm here, mistress. Don't be afraid. Verloren will not touch you._

She scanned the crowd a last time, half her mind already trying to think of the convoy, the routes they would take and the problems they might face, the things they would have to do to reach District 1 as soon as possible to catch Hohburg Fortress by surprise. She still couldn't sense, couldn't see Teito anywhere. Perhaps he was still sore at not being able to follow them to District 1. But it was unlike him to be so moody, so indignantly childish about this. She missed the innocent, feisty Teito that would fight for what he wanted. She saw bishop Lance waving, drawing a smile over her lips and waving back in return.

There was a sudden roar of air overhead as the party looked to the sky. A hawkzile screamed past the crowd, a man in commoner clothes riding the craft wit ha speed and precision that had been honed finely for years.

_Teito!_

Ouka shouted but the man didn't seem to notice as he sped past, drawing leaves and the wind around their robes, shrinking into the horizon. Ouka thought she saw a shred of a smile spread across Ouida's face, but when she blinked the bishop was back to his usual placid self. The imperial guards yelled, waving their lances, practically powerless to stop Teito – she was sure it was him – escaping from the church. What surprised her was the sight of the four ghosts, standing there, staring at the disappearing profile of the hawkzile and its rider. They did nothing to stop it, not a shred of zaiphon was used, not a single blade was drawn to call Teito back, and only stony, platonic silence buffeted Ouka's senses like the wind on her face.

"Was that… Teito?" Hakuren asked rather bewilderedly, his face stretched, nonplussed. "Did he just scramble on a hawkzile?"

"He did, Hakuren," Ouka smiled, reaching the door to their vehicle. "Yes, he did." That was the Teito she had grown to know over two years – the Teito that took matters into his own hands: brash, doing without much thinking to protect what was precious to him. Ouka felt a strange sense of joy envelop her as they pulled out of the church, while marble structures replaced by bright blue skies as she closed her eyes.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, I'm back from NaNoWriMo! It was a pretty okay month, though I think 50000 words weren't enough to finish what I started. No matter, I'm back on Oathbreaker now, and it's two in the morning here. That's how much I want this up for you guys to read. Chapter 10 is being edited as well, so hopefully (fingers crossed) it will be up by the stroke of the new year, maybe even earlier! Thank you all for your constant readership and reviews. Cookies for all, and in case Chapter 10 doesn't come out before the new year, Happy New Year!


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

* * *

><p>Saar decided that lunch with Shuri was in order. The young beglietier was, after all, Saar's guide around until he grew familiar with the place. They had been to the laboratories earlier and the doctors hadn't been able to see if there was anything they could do to restore the memories Saar felt he had lost. He watched Shuri as curry dribbled down his chin, leaving wet, oily stains on the navy fabric of his uniform.<p>

"You eat worse than a child," Takeshi chided playfully, shifting his fingers with the smallest of movements, manipulation zaiphondragging the stain out from Shuri's cloak. Shuri just looked down despondently, staring at the steaming plate of thick spicy sauce and rice. "Hey, don't get so down, I was just joking. Forget I said anything, alright?"

"Yes sir."

The silence between them grew as the clank and clatter of woks and plates in the background shuttled them between awkward and blissful quietness. There weren't any students around in the cafeteria: they were busy having parade rehearsal from their graduation. Takeshi was supposed to be supervising but Shuri's stomach had been growling. He took it as an excuse to remove himself, promising that he'd be back for the later half of the day.

"Why did you join the military, sir?"

Takeshi looked around in his head, trying to pull out any memories that might remind him of the reasons.

"I can't exactly remember. Why… in fact I don't remember at all," he spooned the last portion of his lunch, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. "What about you? Why did you join the military?"

"Family tradition: first son the heir, second son the soldier, but only son both," though Shuri sounded rather displeased at this tradition, and Takeshi wasn't sure if he had read anything about a tradition like that.

"Do you enjoy it though?"

Shuri kept quiet. The answer was written as plain as day on his face. Takeshi let a slice of kiwi linger on his tongue, cracking the tiny black seeds between his teeth before swallowing it down.

"What do you really like?"

"I…" Shuri hesitated. "I don't know. I've never quite found out what I really like to do." When Takeshi had first observed Shuri from afar, he looked the part of the rich, aloof and arrogant child, snubbing others and being the guy to follow around. But in front of authority Takeshi didn't know if he was merely acting humble or truly quivering in his boots. "I've always just tried to get my way, tried to do things that people told me to do, and if I couldn't, got other people to do it for me. Papa… papa never did let me try anything else other than the army since I never really did bother, not like Hakuren – my cousin…"

"What about your cousin?"

"He rebelled against the family tradition. As the second son you go through military school like the rest of the boys in the household, only that you stay on in the military. Hakuren… Hakuren ran away to become a bishop." Takeshi could see hesitation in Shuri's words, as if he was withholding something from his superior officer. Yet Takeshi didn't mind.

"Well, then what are you good at?"

Shuri didn't manage to answer as a whole load of students rushed into the cafeteria for lunch, greeting Shuri with pats on the back and racocous laughter and treating Takeshi with only a baseline of respect. He felt off at how almost at peace he was with this – the cafeteria was the only place where people could be blind to rank, and the cadets took that caveat in the hierarchy to enjoy themselves. He left quietly, moving to the outer foyer of the military institution, sitting on one of the steps, breathing in the scent of fresh cut grass and the gentle warmth of the sun on his skin.

Shuri hadn't followed, but Takeshi vaguely noticed a presence approach from behind, his eyes remaining on the skyline that District one proffered before him, a mix of tall skyscrapers, jutting over low buildings and apartments, the richer suburbs affording to keep patches of green and blue within their compounds. A flash of blue hair caught his eye as the figure decided to sit next to him.

"Haruse."

They had sparred earlier, Haruse with Kuroyuri against Takeshi. The pink-haired lad had been arrogant enough, but was promptly shown his place when Takeshi had turned his wars against him. The misty souls had gathered into a mist, choking Kuroyuri slowly but surely, until Haruse had begged for him to stop. Of course, Takeshi wouldn't have killed him. Deaths during training were of no benefit to the military, and he wouldn't kill for fun.

Would he?

"Sir. How did you do it sir?" Haruse turned to Takeshi, the deep bass lilting slightly with the youth in his being. "How did you take control of the wars that we summoned?" Takeshi watched a bird cock its head curiously toward the two oversized giants, screeching abruptly before taking off in a gust of wind.

"You have to learn how to communicate with them." He waited for Haruse to burst from curiosity, letting his answer linger off the edge of a cliff. Haruse kept the silence much longer than what Takeshi expected, but eventually broke.

"But don't we already communicate with them? Don't we have to communicate to call them forth, even if merely with our thoughts?" Takeshi saw it: someone who wasn't born with the abilities of the warsfeil, someone who had been on the other side, someone whose sentiments would probably forever run parallel to those Takeshi had.

"There's more to communication than one way commandeering," Takeshi didn't know if he was going to break a taboo that he didn't know whether was established or not. "Most – if not almost all – warsfeils use the wars as a weapon, an unthinking, cold entity. What do you know about the wars? What do you understand by the term 'wars', Haruse?"

"Souls that have been stolen from the light, sir." Takeshi knew that was a polite way of putting it, nothing about three wishes being fulfilled by the kor, nothing about warsfeil who pulled souls out of innocent men to fight their own dirty battles, nothing about Verloren. Just the nice clean definition that Haruse just explained.

"And you, as a warsfeil, have the ability to crush that soul and never allow it to return to the embrace of the Chief, keeping it in constant cycle on earth, do you not?"

Haruse nodded slowly. The flames of enlightenment here beginning to kindle in his eyes, but were barely burning.

"Souls still have the innate want, the innate desire to be reunited with the chief of heaven. Give them a chance, albeit a false one, and they would take it. The problem is, of course, conveying your intentions to wars, since this goes beyond simple actions of physicality like talking, and since they usually act instinctively."

"How sir?"

"It starts with respect, and acknowledging that their servitude to you is not obliged." Takeshi saw Haruse's eyes widen, placing a satisfied grin across his face. "Yes, they are not expected to serve you. Verloren did not create the wars solely for a warsfeil to control. The wars can feel your thoughts. If you see them as mere things for play you can only force them along by a force of will. To them, one master is bad enough – they won't listen to someone else who merely wants to force them out of their opponent's hand as another worthless soul…"

The one o'clock bell struck. He could hear the chatter of cadets as he stood, Haruse standing with him.

"There's much more to it, of course. Let's just say respect and trust is a seed you have to plant and nurture for a while before it bears fruit. I learnt since I was a child, whereas you," he sized Haruse up. "You're a changed one. For what reasons, I don't know, but you're at a disadvantage with experience.

"Also, please don't tell Kuroyuri that I said all of this. I can see him potentially exploding all over Ayanami-sama about this if he knows I told you anything."

Watching as Haruse's broad back disappeared in the bend of the corridor, Takeshi realised that he was, for a first in a long time, feeling comfortable and in his place. He was a warsfeil among warsfeils, he was a capable zaiphon user among zaiphon users. He felt alright here. He wasn't always on his toes as when he was back at home. It felt safe here, like that family he never had. But yet, there was something within him, bothering and gnawing at his chest. He tried to remember, but all he could pull up was that Konatsu had spoken about it a while ago, and it somehow involved his mother...

Shrugging, he dug his hands into his pockets, crisp steps towards the parade square anticipating the students' drills as he hummed himself a tune.

* * *

><p>All he had wanted was an audience with the chief of heaven, an impersonal, objective discussion of his failure as a human of indignance at having a mortal wield the destructive power of hell, but more of why he was such a failure. Totally impartial and objective, nothing personal. The chief of heaven was too busy for subjective opinions, for cries of help to self-piteous foolishness of the moment. Frau had managed to instil in him the notion that the chief was one big uncaring bastard, not as benelovent as everyone though him to be, with a sick sense of humour. Castor was more wary than usual when he passed by the gates manned by the angels of heaven.<p>

_Fest._

Castor looked at the blinding radiance that was the chief of heaven. It was a light that diffused warmth, one that shone with the force of a thousand suns. Yet Castor didn't have to squint to see the figure of a man, sitting on a throne that sparkled like diamonds on fire. He stooped down to one knee, bishop's robes spreading on the ground like ripples on the face of a pond.

_Why have you come?_

He needn't have asked the question, yet he gave Castor the chance to voice it out.

"The guardian of hellfire is running loose on earth."

_I was the one who brought him to earth._

"But in a mortal body?"

_A form of regulation._

"You see what he did to us."

_You should have exercised better judgement._

"Also one of the reasons I'm here. I'm beginning to doubt if my judgement is valid at all."

_I've been wondering that for a long time._

Fest looked to the ground, as though he had taken a hit in the gut in the midst of this verbal spar.

_What would you have me do?_

"If I knew I wouldn't be here," his voice rose slightly.

_What if I chose to do nothing?_

"Then I would have wasted my time seeking your council," the frustration in his tone surfaced. He knew that he was on the verge of being expelled, being hit down like Verloren, but sometimes standing your ground was what the chief wanted to see, though Castor wasn't sure if his judgement on this could be trusted either. The chief of heaven remained silent. Castor stood there for what felt like eons, watching the light, waiting to be banished from the realm for his insubordination, waiting to be stripped of his immortality.

_Remember, Fest, your purpose in the mortal realm. You are meant to destroy Verloren, together with the aid of the two keys and Pandora's box. Moloch is judge, and he will see eternal demise to Pandora's box and to Verloren's soul if you're not fast enough before he fully wakes._

Castor blinked, and suddenly he was back in his study, facing the paperwork he had left hours before, facing Labrador who stood at his desk, shifting beside Castor to catch any news the Assistant Archbishop had to divulge. Castor, however, remained silent, so Labrador did keep quiet, looking at the floor tiles for answers that weren't there.

"Do you trust me, Labrador?"

The purple haired bishop hesitated, breathing out a sigh. Castor continued speaking when the reply didn't come forth from Labrador.

"We need to go after Teito. We need to get Saar back, before they start something that will never end."

"Yes," Labrador murmured, trance-like. "Yes we do."

"Tell Frau and Lance," Castor stood, determination to right the wrongs burning in his eyes. His judgement would be his alone, and he would face the consequences head-on. "Tell them we're bringing them back."

* * *

><p>Takeshi found himself back in the blinding darkness. One glance around showed that he wasn't alone. He could see the outline of a cloaked figure that turned to reveal a skull, contorted to sadness, looking back at Takeshi. The figure waved him over, and Takeshi opened his mouth to a voice that resonated deep, yet sang high in his eardrums. A voice that he didn't realise ever belonged to him.<p>

"Verloren?"

"Let's have a chat, Moloch," Verloren waited for Takeshi to catch up with him. He looked at his hands, baulking at the realisation that his body wasn't his either. Six muscular arms clenched fists at his side. His body was tall, powerfully built, but seemingly as light as a feather, the wind of six wings swirling around them. He could feel a long ponytail of hair swing back and forth as he looked at Verloren.

"Why are you mortal, Moloch?" the path they walked on was barren, desolate. A lone tree stood, bare-branched. "What business do you have on Earth?"

"The chief sent me." He found himself spouting words he did not think of. "He wants me to destroy everything – destroy you, the seven who have run amok, Pandora's box, maybe even the two keys. He's been letting the humans use them too much for their own ends, and the mission has long lost its objective."

Verloren meditated a little on this piece of information.

"You really loved her, didn't you?"

Takeshi – Moloch – could have sworn a tear slid down the cool, calm face that had stretched over Verloren's expressionless skull.

"You know me, Moloch. You know what happened. You know that I loved her too." Verloren's voice became but a whisper. "You know what the bastard accused me of was untrue beyond words. It was traitorous, stupid, stupid for the chief of heaven. Immature." The next tree they came upon had no leaves, but spread out to blossom with fragrant magnolia at the tips of its dark, black branches.

"Will you really burn me, Moloch?"

"Not unless I am forced to, Verloren," Takeshi thought he sounded almost tired, despondent, like as though he had thought of this problem since the beginning of time. Even with the ramrod straightness of his back and the chest that stood out proudly, he felt helpless to the eventual fate that might embrace them. "The seven ghosts, they can never replace you, Verloren. The chief of Heaven might have created them in your image, but his powers can go only so far... we all know you weren't exactly his creation. That is why he bosses Mikhail, Raphael and I around to fit his own agenda."

They had reached a vast, green field, snow falling but never covering the buds and shoots that sprang forth from the ground. The sky was a piercing blue and birds everywhere, chirping at the two new arrivals. A pavilion sat in the midst of white rose bushes, and Moloch could see a large black crystal that shone in the faint shimmer of light that floated as an orb beside it. Verloren had showed him the two incarnations before – of hard, negative emotions versus the boundless light that was love. This was a recreation of Verloren's former workplace, where he sorted the souls at death to heaven or to earth, but no souls passed through here, no warmth of heaven embraced it. Verloren looked over the scene forlornly.

"Promise me, Moloch. Promise me that you will fight for justice, not merely because you were ordered to fight. Promise me."

Moloch opened his mouth to reply.

"I promi-"

Takeshi snapped awake as Konatsu opened the door from within Ayanami's office. Had be fallen asleep while standing? The shining epaulettes of the second lieutenant shone from Konatsu's lapels, as did the smile that beamed from his face. He didn't hear what Konatsu was babbling about excitedly, because his mind was busy thinking about the vision he just received, wondering if it were really true or merely a figment of his imagination.

The days flew by.

There was nothing else Takeshi would use to describe the experience. His life became a mere rotation of combat, hour after hour. Ayanami supervised his training. Just last week what he thought he had learnt as a whip lash of zaiphon had suddenly evolved into a whirlwind of energy that tore everything apart, something stronger, but still something he could control. His body became rigid, fatigue seeping in and out of his muscles like water in a sponge absorbing and squeezing in and out. Sometimes when he looked in his mirror, he wondered if his increase in stature was something good, or if he should have just maintained his previous façade so he didn't have to scare every single person into a salute as they walked past him in the corridor.

He saw Shuri day in and day out, but the young man never dared to talk to him any more, always acting like as though Takeshi would suddenly suck the life out of him, like as though the warsfeil would take away his only prized possession.

Takeshi had been there at the recent graduation parade: they had all been so smart, so formal and so precise in their drills. He felt the surge of pride he had when Konatsu had battered through his attacks when they were training as children, the satisfaction at seeing them salute crisply as they walked by. They were full-fledged Beglieters now, with a long way to go before their reached the ranks of a junior officer, but it was a start in their journey.

The Black Hawks were starting to feel more familiar to him as well… Takeshi liked Haruse. He was quiet, always saying the right things at the right time, polite. His presence wasn't unnerving like the others' too. The attachment that Haruse had with Kuroyuri was commendable as well. Those two were inseparable, like brothers tried by the tests of time. To see Haruse without Kuroyuri was an oddity of the universe, like a sea without water, or man without a face. Half the time, Takeshi didn't know how to make conversation with Haruse, and so would usually stare at the sky that was a shade brighter than Haruse's hair.

But Ayanami was the surprise.

Takeshi would have had expected Ayanami to keep to himself, or at least mingle with the higher authorities when it came to things like dinner and casual conversations. As of late, however, there was not a single time he could not remember the field marshal going out of his way – Ayanami's way – to settle down at the cafeteria and have a meal with him, or the others. Usually it would be with him. It was not a problem of suspicion, more a problem of Takeshi wondering if he was doing something wrong that his boss would have to spy on him out in the open with such frequency. He remembered bringing that up to Ayanami – with as much a lack of seriousness as he possibly could, which Konatsu later commented seemed absolutely deadpan serious – and got a smile and no more a verbal answer.

It still disturbed Takeshi that he did not know what he was doing wrong.

At least he provided some stimulating conversation other than the ins and outs of administrative work that had to be settled every day. They talked about life and death; the mysterious thing that was zaiphon and how understudied it was; the myths and legends of the Chief of Heaven and Verloren, which Ayanami still hadn't told him if he believed but merely gave one of those semi-furtive glances towards his paperwork. They talked about things less discussed, whether it was alright for a man to love a man, a woman to a woman, or whether the world would start a riot should they re-draw all the letters of the Barsburg commontongue. They were questions that did not necessarily have an answer, but Takeshi appreciated being more than a sack of meat which was useful for merely combat, exercise and paperwork.

"Was Verloren guilty?"

Takeshi looked up from the documents that he was sorting for Ayanami to sign, eyebrows twitching instinctively.

"Sir?"

"Do you think Verloren was really guilty of killing Eve?"

Everything Takeshi knew about Verloren and his expulsion from heaven came crashing through him, his mind sorting them by relevance. Yes, he had loved Eve, but no book described the extent of his powers on divine beings, and Eve would surely have been a divine being, wouldn't she? Did Verloren's powers of death apply to people other than humans? Takeshi only noticed how deep he got into this when his hands stopped shuffling the papers about, and instead grabbed onto a pen, almost writing some things down.

"I don't think I can judge whether Verloren was guilty or not, sir."

"And why not?"

Takeshi saw that smile creasing the corners of Ayanami's eyes with his perfect porcelain skin. Maybe he found his conversations amusing, and maybe Ayanami was privy to some things that Takeshi could never hope to know in his lifetime, but he asked for an opinion and he was going to get a good one, or at least one with some sound, valid pointers.

"For one, I don't think all the documents about Verloren's expulsion from heaven were written from a fair perspective," Takeshi said. "Everything I've read so far has either come from the church or at least someone who is theologically inclined towards the belief of a benevolent Chief of Heaven, and that he reigns supreme over all, but that's just a belief. There's no truth to that, or at least any form of justification that could lead us to believe that it is true.

"There are just too many possibilities: if the Chief of Heaven had created Verloren knowing full well the capabilities that Verloren possessed, why would he allow his daughter to run around freely in the upper realm? Was he deliberately setting up Verloren for the fall in his divine order of things? In that case we can't assume that the Chief of Heaven is benevolent at all. Perhaps the Chief is fallible: he did create the humans in his image after all, someone like him, someone to be his companions, and therefore he didn't realise the implications of letting Eve run loose around Verloren and thus decided to place the blame on someone else for his daughters' death.

"So while Verloren was guilty of killing Eve, if that happened at all, I don't believe in something as simple as pure benevolence and malevolence, sir."

Takeshi dropped the pen and groaned. He had written outlines of his thinking on one of the forms that Ayanami was supposed to sign. "I'm sorry sir, I'll get another copy printed right away…"

"Yes, and let me keep this," Ayanami picked up the sheet of paper like it was made of glass, examining it carefully with all the patience of a scientist in a laboratory. "Interesting, seeing how you think. A cynic in a sense, but an open-minded one. I'm glad I asked you that question." Takeshi felt a chill run down his spine as Ayanami turned his gaze straight towards him, those unique purple irises reading his face like a book. "So do you want to know the answer?"

"The answer… to whether Verloren is truly guilty of his crime, sir?" Takeshi felt the weight of the words as they pressed in on him, like as though a stunning revelation was about to be made, like as though the world was going to be revealed through a veil that he always knew was there but could never lift. Ayanami was going to lift that veil for him, to show him a little insight into the changing points of the world, one which set the course for religion in the nation of Barsburg.

"He killed Eve, not because he wanted to, but she submitted herself to him," Ayanami spoke in a breathy whisper. "But what broke his heart more than Eve's death was the Chief's betrayal against him, and that is why the world is what it is today, it is why warsfeil exist, and it is why we will never be at peace." Something turned dark in Ayanami's eyes when he spoke, not something that made Takeshi scared, but something that made him sit up a little bit straighter and clench his fists on his lap, like he would at a formal meeting when he knew serious things were being discussed. "It has become personal, and that's why humans were the targets, because they mattered so much to the chief. Betrayal paid back with betrayal."

And then, silence. The mist in Ayanami's eyes cleared, and he reached out to sign the rest of the forms. Takeshi sat still, quiet, waiting to take his leave.

* * *

><p>Teito pushed his hair out of his face. It had been a long time since he had ridden a hawkzile, and for so many days now. Entering the borders of District One had not been a problem: commoner clothes and constant thin layer of dirt on his skin made him look older than he was. Ayanami had no reason to place an active warrant out for his being anyway. Soft-soled shoes made no noise as Tetio walked up to the inn – the last he would see for a while, considering that the fringes of District one were where poverty stopped and wealth began.<p>

He had been talking to Mikhail and Mikage these few days, the only people who could provide him conversation. Saar was a throbbing sensation in Teito's mind, courtesy of Mikhail, pointing him straight towards the military headquarters. It was during one of those conversations that Teito had come across a huge stumbling block he hadn't planned on facing: his entrance into headquarters. Everything he had thought about was so impossible, left some quarter uncovered, making him realise how difficult it was to even step near the building.

"I'm thinking too much."

His thoughts skimmed over the surface of a rock-hard matteress, unblinking eyes staring at the wooden ceiling. The easiest idea would be to pull himself off as a student or beglietier, corralling himself within the academy and making his way into the headquarters through their shared connection. That was the plan he had all along, feeling the smooth fabric of his military uniform at his fingertips as he went through his flawed plan one last time. What about security clearance? What about pass-issuance? How was he going to get through those electronically-locked doors?

_Teito._

Mikage snuggled up beside his cheek, soft fur a welcome presence in the cold hardness of his bed and the constant thrum of Mikhail's presence in his head. His hand reached out to stroke Mikage's head.

"Mikage."

_Why are you doing this, Teito?_

The young bishop stared into Mikage's eyes. That was the last question he had expected from his friend – the reincarnation of his friend – and the last question he had expected himself to answer at this time. It would be wrong to say he hadn't thought of why he was doing this over the days of travel, but there had never really been a solid reason in his head as to why he was so concerned about Saar.

"Why am I doing this?"

_Why put your safety at risk for someone you barely know?_

Teito knew the answer was there, somewhere in the depths of his mind, but just evading him at the moment. His hands grabbed at locks of brown hair as he pulled gently, hoping that maybe it would drag that thought out of the recesses of his brain.

No such luck. Teito exhaled, trying not to make it sound like a sigh.

_Banish the darkness, Teito. _

"Darkness?" Teito asked half-heartedly. Mikhail was staying particularly quiet in this conversation, where he would usually be enthusiastically offering suggestions and opinions, but Teito didn't prompt him. He wished he didn't have to think so much, that he had the luxury of diving head-first into trouble and letting someone else save him at the last minute. That feeling of freedom from consequences, the feeling of being invincible, was gone. And in that moment he realised that he wished Frau was there with him, helping him get Saar out. "But he warned me about getting close to Saar anyway," Teito mumbled under his breath.

_**Sleep, master. We have a plan to execute tomorrow, and I do not wish for you to be fatigued.**_

Teito closed his eyes, hearing the soft breaths of the fyulong dragon in one ear and the hum of Mikhail in the other as they blended around in his head, forming a tune that he hadn't heard for a while.

_**Through the stars, snow and memories  
>I'm looking for your footprints<br>I pray you rest peacefully for all eternity  
>This is the middle of the dream<strong>_

_**With wings that still can't fly  
>I run up the hill<br>When I stray from the path  
>I close my eyes<br>and keep going**_

* * *

><p>AN: Yes, I know it's been half a year since I updated, but if you're reading this that means you're still here and I'm still here too! So yay! It's just that I've been uninspired as of late, hitting the lows on my self-assurance that my writing is good enough for readership. (Still don't think it is.) But then again, who cares? I forced myself to finish this chapter just for you guys, so thank you!

Just FYI the lyrics above are the english translation for the Raggs Requiem, in case you haven't already recognised the first verse and the chorus haha.

Also, I am aware of many many inconsistencies within the story but I don't want to be too distracted by them... I will update when I can and hopefully remove those embarrassing mistakes asap. This project has taken too long and is so behind schedule, but I still hope to finish it. Here's to you readers, for perpetually making me feel like I owe the community at least one good OC story to fit into the 07-ghost fandom. Cheers.


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